Resident Evil Insanity
by BurningRave18
Summary: A look into an untold tale of survival during the viral outbreak of Raccoon City.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**: This is a story that I developed several years ago. This is probably the third time I'm seriously rewriting it. I am also posting this on my DeviantArt page, and since I enjoy that site a bit more than this one, I'm going to be posting updates there more frequently than here. So, I urge you that if you have an DeviantArt profile, to check this story out and leave me comments or such over there. If you don't, I'm still going to be updating here, but my story here will probably always be a couple updates behind the story I post on my DeviantArt page.

You can find a link to my DeviantArt page in my profile.

With that out of the way, let's get to actually talking about the content, shall we? This is a story set in Raccoon City during the outbreak. I make occasional references to events and certain characters from the games, but for the most part, this story's concept is an original tale, merely set within the RE universe. Don't expect interaction with any of the main stars of the series (with the possible exception to one... but I'll figure that out later)

Still, I try my best to follow in line with the established storyline from the games. I may take some creative liberties here and there, but for the most part I really try not to mess with the cannon storyline. I like to imagine my story coinciding nicely with the events established in the games.

Last but not least, I am not a huge fan of this prologue, so I'd ask you to at least read the next section before deciding whether or not you're really into this story. Of course, that's assuming you don't like the prologue. If you do like it, well, that's awesome. XD

**ENTER THE HORROR**

What happens when civilization is brought to its knees and gutted? When a city is tainted and brought into the realms of living nightmares? As the bustle of city life dies down and streets become little more than winding mazes of wrecked vehicles, the air filled with the ever-present stench of decay, we are reminded that safety is but an ignorant façade between reality and absolute horror. Structures once used to house our increasingly shallow notions of life soon become little more than hollow deathtraps, waiting to engulf the wanderers who seek to regain their past false sense of security. When society crumbles into chaos and walls are painted with the blood of nightmares, and the blood of the innocent, those still alive will find themselves in a constant struggle to maintain their sanity.

The citizens of Raccoon City could never have fathomed that they would find themselves tossed into the depths of absolute peril. Once living in care free, simplistic bliss, they found themselves ill equipped for when the city fell into a never-ending continuum of survival. The warning signs were there, offered months in advance, but no one would listen. They turned a blind eye to the threat that would later consume every aspect of their lives.

A virus spread through the city, twisting the life out of bodies to turn them into mindless, bloodthirsty entities. The walking dead began to swarm the streets of the city, taking most would-be survivors off guard and ending their lives before the true struggle even began. With every fallen soul, the army of rotting undead added more to their ranks. A simple cut, a single bite and the virus would begin to infect, set to conquer and control the body. It was a constant spiral of hunger, death and resurrection and eventually, it completely overran the city.

The virus infected with little discrimination. Animals too small and weak to bare the disease died off from the infection, save for the carries, the rats. However, dogs found a place in the night alongside their undead masters, resorting back to primal instincts as the virus took hold of their bodies. They thirsted for fresh blood and the taste of flesh, hunting the streets and alleyways like packs of wolves. Those who found themselves surrounded by these beasts soon found their throats torn out, and were left with the cold embrace of the ground to keep them company until the pack finished the job. If one listened well enough, they might hear the faint taps of these creatures' paws clicking against pavement. Then, and only then, might they have enough time to escape.

Where most birds fell to the virus, crows embraced the unnatural disease and developed a taste for human flesh. Perched on rooftops and telephone poles, these crows waited for their prey to walk by, swooping down from the skies in flocks. Like a tornado, they fell upon their meal, tearing through the unfortunate soul. Eventually, their prey would fall and they would feast.

Crazed, rabid animals and the hordes of walking dead were not all that crept through the city. Creatures more terrifying than anyone could have imagined prior to the outbreak began to appear in the city, the result of the virus reacting to certain bodies in an extremely different and more grueling manner. Most never knew of these creatures until they stumbled upon them by accident, and by then, it was too late.

Those fortunate few who found themselves still standing after the initial wave of bloodshed found themselves locked in a struggle for survival that mankind had long ago forsaken. An entire life of spoiled succulence left their body and mind ill fit to adapt to the situation, and with nowhere else to turn, they fell into what instinct their humanity hadn't fully consumed. Each day no longer focused around ritualistic schedules, but solely on living to see another sun set. The screams of those too weak to do as such echoed through the air as a constant reminder that death lurked around every corner. Life in Raccoon City had shifted, becoming a race of survival, a marathon of fatigue, with its contestants grasping at thin, rotting strings to stay alive.

How does a horror movie become reality? How did the Midwestern society of Raccoon City succumb to such vile circumstances? What were the signs that the citizens chose to ignore?

After a rise of bizarre murders on the outskirts of the city a few months prior to the outbreak, Special Forces of the Raccoon City Police Department were sent to investigate the occurrences. They were led to a mansion, the Spencer Estate, where they faced the horrors of this virus first hand. The few who survived returned to the city, knowing the cause and the true meaning behind the virus. Their words went ignored, realities too horribly for ordinary people to believe. The city was to fall.

The nightmare faced at the mansion by the STARS members soon caught up to the naïve people of Raccoon City. Even until their dying moment, most never knew the part the Umbrella Corporation had in the incident. People relied on the corporation for pharmaceutical goods, and looked to Umbrella for advancements in medicine and technology to make their lives better. Because of this front, no one knew of Umbrella's other interests, and remained blind to the very people who would ultimately bring death to the city.

Few still live to curse the name 'Umbrella.'


	2. Part 1

**Author's Note**: Here's the start of the actual story, so I hope you enjoy what's written so far.

I'm never adverse to taking suggestions for how I might improve my writing style or the story, so by all means, let me know what you think. This is a practice/learning experience for me, and I would like to get as much out of it as I can.

Also, for future reference, the genre of this story is more like Horror/Action, and I may get somewhat gore-happy at times (if it works. I'm not going to throw gore in just for the sake of throwing gore in). The lack of an 'Action' genre label was really bothersome.

**SEPTEMBER 26**

**INSOMNIA PART 1**

Footsteps echoed through the lifeless streets of the broken city. Two people, a young woman and a middle-aged man, ran down a street littered with the remnants of a recent, yet entirely forgotten life. The bodies of broken and smashed vehicles seemed frozen in time, littering the road in an unchanging display of their final moments. Windows were cracked and painted with blood, often concealing trapped, decaying bodies inside. Trash left over from the last days of the city plagued the ground, only moving with the occasional passing breeze. Aside from the rustle of the litter blowing aside, the entire city seemed silent and still, oblivious to the chaos that ran through its veins.

If they hadn't been too preoccupied by escaping the creatures that had caught their scent, perhaps the two survivors would have noticed the three bodies lying about under the various inanimate decay at the entrance of an alley. Instead, they ran past in a desperate attempt to break the line of sight from the monsters that slowly followed them. In the end, this would prove to be a mistake they both would regret.

The man, his short, black hair already riddled with the grey of age, panted as he tried to keep up with his youthful companion. Despite the inherent danger of the situation, he looked ahead of himself with empty, disillusioned eyes. Perhaps he would have screamed if all the emotion and hope hadn't already been torn from his body in the onslaught of raiding undead. Still, despite how his body and heart wished little more than to collapse, he pushed himself onward, bringing with him only faint, forced inhales, exhales and the clip-clap of his hard-soled shoes smacking against the ground. He held a standard, police issued handgun, given to him at the only safe place he had known since the incident began. His pocket held one extra clip of ammunition, which seemed like a pitiful attempt to offer hope compared to the amount of undead that lurked through the city.

The past few months seemed to be nothing more than a cruel joke issued from the gods on his behalf. He had been fired from his job, shortly thereafter plunging into his mid-life crisis. For weeks, it seemed as if his life couldn't have become any more pointless. Then the outbreak occurred, and his family was slaughtered. He lost his wife without being able to tell her that he never meant those horrible things he said. He lost his son without being able to make up for missing his ballgame two weeks back. When they died, so did his heart. He became a marionette, surviving because pure instinct drove him to survive, despite having lost everything that truly mattered.

He continued to endure the outbreak, not knowing what else he could do. He feared the undead. He feared dying, but life without his family seemed so pointless. The mere innate desire to preserve his life was all that stood between him and the starved horrors that followed him. Robert was no longer a man, turned into nothing else but a survivor following the only other living being for no other reason other than to extend his life and his grief.

About twenty years younger than her companion, the woman ran slightly ahead of him, her dark brown ponytail bouncing against her back with each step. Every now and then, she threw a glance over her shoulder, ever paranoid of the world around her. A simple T-shirt, pair of jeans and sneakers were all the protected her from the living hell she had fallen in to. Like Robert, she carried a standard 9mm handgun, and one spare clip of ammunition. Unlike her partner, however, she had a second weapon.

A small, black leather sheath was fastened to her belt, hanging down against her thigh. She had wound black electrical tape around the grip of the dagger encased in the sheath. The actual blade appeared dark green in color, often reminding her of emeralds. The weapon, simple enough in nature, had fascinated her from the moment she came across it years ago and had remained one of her most prized possessions ever since. Tending to it became a hobby, then an obsession, acting as one of the few things keeping her from being swallowed by her life.

Unlike Robert, who led a relatively simple and happy life before the start of his downfall months ago, Veronica found herself with nothing to live for. Despite not being happy with her job as a clerk for a local corner store, it paid the bills and she did not intend to ever progress beyond that mindless, dull job. Instead, she was rather content with gritting her teeth and silently bitching about it.

As for family, she had run away from her parents years ago. Her childhood was plagued by her father's bad habits and her mother's disassociation with the world around her. Veronica wasn't at all surprised when they never bothered looking for her. She knew they didn't care, and in a way, she was happy that they didn't. Settling in Raccoon City became her personal rescue from her miserable, past life, and finally she was free to live as she wished.

Halfway down the alley, the two survivors came to realize their mistake. Several deep groans fell upon the air as three walking corpses rounded the corner ahead of them, cutting off their planned escape route. Without a word, Robert and Veronica immediately turned around only to watch three bodies rise from the way they had ran into the alley, trapping them in place.

Instantly, Robert froze, his eyes focused on the approaching undead. Their flesh was rotting and their clothing was in tatters, smeared with filth and blood. Yet, most disturbing of all was their eyes, empty and shallow as if they were never even human to begin with. They all shared those same, horrid eyes and the same hunger for flesh.

Focusing on the center monster of the three that had risen from the end of the alley, Veronica aimed her handgun. Desperation began to set in, as within a matter of moments, all six of the zombies would be on her and her companion. Robert stared, wide eyed, as she fired off five rounds into her target, causing it to collapse to the ground and finally embrace the death it had cheated. Her eyes shifted to her next target, and true, absolute fear began to settle in Robert, as he wanted to do nothing else but flee and never look back.

The undead continued to shuffle their way towards their awaiting meal, not paying the slightest care to their fallen ally. Veronica fired off three more rounds against her second target, realizing that killing would be the only way she and Robert would make it out of the situation alive.

Of course, just as she began to pull the trigger to let out her fourth shot, her companion called out, "No! Get off me!"

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Robert had inadvertently backed into the second group of living dead. The three corpses held onto the struggling man, one sinking its yellow, misaligned teeth into his shoulder. As he screamed, Veronica quickly fired four random shots into the two remaining zombies that were approaching her, dropping the one she had already hit prior. Realizing that she had to do something, lest the group of zombies overtook Robert completely, she spun around and placed a couple shots into the undead that held him, knocking two back in the process.

The entire act had only bought Robert a few seconds of relief before the entire crowd would be on him again. He did his best to keep the one that Veronica hadn't hit at bay, but eventually fell to the ground. In a short struggle, the middle-aged man managed to push himself away from the undead monster and back himself away, watching in terror as the zombies gathered themselves for another assault.

Meanwhile, Veronica had attempted to run to his aid, only to have two cold, slimy hands latch onto her shoulders. The remaining zombie from her side of the alley reared back its head and opened its mouth, ready to devour the flesh and blood that its unnatural body craved. Instead, it was fed cold metal as Veronica shoved the barrel of her handgun into its mouth, firing in desperation until the loud bangs were replaced with sharp clicks. The creature fell back, the upper half of its rotten skull splattered against the walls, ground and the back of Veronica's shirt.

Bringing her attention back to Robert, who could only clutch onto his shoulder and slowly crawl away from the approaching undead, Veronica dropped the empty clip from her handgun, replacing it with the one from her pocket. She steadied herself, forcing herself to breathe easy as she fired off a few rounds to drop one of the three. As she ran forward to close the distance between her and the creatures that sought Robert's flesh, one of the zombies stumbled and fell to the ground, grasping at the man's ankle. He struggled to kick it away and put more distance between him and the creatures as Veronica pulled her arm back and smashed the barrel of her handgun into the standing zombie's forehead, pulling the trigger as the gun shattered its skull, as reassurance that the thing would never again stand up. Shortly thereafter, the last thing that the remaining zombie knew was the sight of Robert's fearful eyes staring down at it right before Veronica's heel came down on its skull.

The alley was now littered with the bodies of undead, put to their final rest. The walls were painted with blood and silence once again filled the air. It took a moment for Robert to get over the shock of what just transpired, and eventually he pulled himself to his feet, still clutching onto the wound in his shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers and dampened his shirt. Fear still stuck to his face.

"Tha-thank you, Veronica…" He trailed off, breathing deeply as if he had just awoke from a nightmare.

The young woman faced her companion, staring into his pained and troubled eyes. She felt cold, as the air wrapped itself around her calming body. Seconds began to tick by with silence falling between the two. As soon as her breathing returned to normal, she gave one deep exhale, and lifted her handgun. The next second lingered just long enough to give the injured man enough time to understand what was going to happen, but she couldn't wait for his words. She couldn't give him the opportunity to plea. Before he managed to utter a single syllable, she fired her last bullet into Robert's forehead. The man stumbled backwards and fell to the ground with a deep, lifeless thud.

"You… You were bitten," she muttered, attempting to reason with herself. Slowly, she lowered her arm and her head, standing completely alone in an alley full of corpses.


	3. Part 2

It took a moment for Veronica to push the look on Robert's face right before she shot him out of her head. She knew she had no choice in the matter, that keeping him alive would have only hurt her own chances for survival, but that didn't seem to make his death any less of a burden.

Crouching besides the middle-aged man's body, she took the handgun from his lifeless grasp, and pulled out the extra clip of ammunition he had stored in his pocket. "If only you had actually used this," she muttered to herself as she pulled the clip out of Robert's handgun and put the empty weapon on his chest, "Then maybe you'd still be alive, and I wouldn't be all alone."

Shortly after slipping one of her two clips of ammo into her handgun, the lone survivor made her way to the street that she and Robert had initially attempted to reach. She had paid Robert what respects she could offer, given how distant she had always been with others. Still, staying in that alley any longer than she had to would have not only put her ownf life in danger, but would have condemned her to regret Robert's death much longer than she should have.

Standing in the middle of the street, which looked nearly identical to all the other streets she had ran through thus far, Veronica locked her hands behind her neck and peered up into the sky as she stretched. With the sky dull and grey and silence thick in the air, it was at this moment that the sense of being completely and utterly alone in a living nightmare began to set in. The faint sense of ease that Robert's company had given to her before had deteriorated into a distinct sense of loss that she couldn't much bare to linger on.

With a forced exhale, she finished stretching and looked down the street, littered with the chaotic remnants of a life gone to hell. "Great…"

Realizing that standing still in the center of the street wouldn't get her anywhere except on the menu for some particularly hungry passerbys, she began to walk off down the faint, broken yellow line in the middle of the road. After all, it wasn't that Veronica didn't have a destination in mind, because she did, it just proved difficult to cope with her new circumstances. It was decided, several hours back, that a local fire station would be the best bet for a safe house to rest in for the night, a fire station, which was now several blocks down the street from where Veronica had stood. In retrospect, it seemed horribly cruel and ironic for Robert to die when he did, but reflecting on that thought for a moment, Veronica realized that, perhaps, he had gotten off easy.

Bringing her mind back to the task at hand, and away from Robert's demise, the young woman began to pick up her pace as she walked through the mess of useless cars that stood around the street like some sort of out of place junkyard maze. She thought about running, so that she could make sure she would get to the station before nightfall, but didn't want to risk being caught fatigued if something were to sneak up on her.

The hopeless feeling that drove many a would-be survivor to the brinks of insanity had become little more than an unwelcome guest that Veronica had finally begun growing accustom to. It was terrifying to think that three days in a zombie-infested city had managed to make her somewhat familiar to such a feeling. No longer did the various bodies upon the ground, or mangled in car wrecks disturb her to the point where she had to force herself to look away. Instead, there was simply a constant feeling of unease running through her mind, a feeling that she thought would never totally disappear.

Since time had ceased to keep its meaning aside from the vague notion of when the sun would rise and set, Veronica hadn't the slightest clue of how long she had been walking. She had been too busy enjoying how uneventful the walk had been. For several blocks, most of the signs of movement she had seen were that of the occasional undead monster, sulking behind a haphazard barricade of broken vehicles. The few that weren't, she had managed to move on past without opposition until the mindless creature entirely lost interest in pursuing her.

The sun had started to creep its way to the horizon, and she imagined that it must have been getting on in the afternoon. She would have picked up her pacing a bit, not having any desire of being stuck outside come nightfall, except that she caught hint of a faint noise beating through the air. It almost sounded as if a giant bird was rapidly flapping its massive wings several streets away. Realizing that she had stopped to listen to the noise, Veronica picked up her pace again, moving just fast enough so that she could continue to listen to the noise. As it grew louder, her heartbeat began to pick up until she finally realized what was making the noise.

A helicopter was approaching.

Struck with the unfamiliar feeling of excitement and hope, Veronica froze in place and turned to her right. She backed up so that she could get a better view of the sky, over the building that stood at the side of the street in the direction of the noise. Holding up her arms, as if she was about to pluck whatever may appear directly from the sky, she began to wave furiously as the helicopter made its way over the building. The sound of the rotors spinning boomed through her skull, but she didn't pay much attention to the ringing sensation that followed in her ears. Instead, she remained focused on a possible rescue, waving her arms and screaming, as if the two acts would do her any good. She locked her eyes on the machine, watching as it continued over the street, paying no attention to her.

It felt as if her heart had stopped beating and her hands went numb as the back ramp to the cargo hold of the large helicopter lowered. She pictured a rope ladder being thrown down to her, or military officials parachuting down to come to her aid, but neither thing occurred. Instead, a giant, metallic, tube-like container began to slip out the back. As it fell through the sky, a rush fell over the young woman, with reality reaching its coarse, devilish hands into her heart to squeeze away her last remnants of hope. She was unsure what to watch: the helicopter disappearing over the skyline without her, or the large object hurdling down towards her.

If it didn't appear as if she would be crushed by the falling object, Veronica would have probably thought that she looked like an idiot with her arms raised to the sky in an attempt to wave down a helicopter pilot. Instead, she dashed off towards the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. The metallic tube hit the ground with a thud that nearly matched the loud, rhythmic hum of the helicopter when it was overhead. Taking a moment to catch her breath and get over the loss of the situation, Veronica did little more but stand quietly and eye the container over with, what most likely was, an ill-timed sense of curiosity.

The lid twisted, emitting what seemed to be steam from the insides of the container. As soon as it finished turning, it tumbled off the side of the container and hit the street with a sharp cling before rolling off in a couple imperfect circles and falling to rest. The steam began to dissipate from the top and a deep thumping sound began to echo out from inside the metallic tube. Indents in the metal began to form with each thud until, finally, a small crack formed in the side of the container.

Even though everything inside her body told her to run, she didn't. Perhaps it was, in part, due to the intense loss of hope she felt from seeing the helicopter fly by, or perhaps curiosity got the better of her when it shouldn't have. Regardless, she stood still, watching as whatever lurked inside the giant casing broke its way free.

As the metal split, finally giving way to its captive's strength, a giant human-like being pushed his way through the side of the container, stepping onto the street with two shallow thuds. From Veronica's perspective, he looked to be somewhere over eight feet tall. His skin was a dark, ashy grey and he had no hair on his skull. What could have only been an unusually over-muscled body must have stood underneath his massive, dark green trench coat, which covered everything except his bulky, bare fists and two overly large and heavy black boots.

At last realizing that she should have, in fact, ran away at first signs of the container opening, Veronica found herself staring in a mixture of awe and fear. In no time at all, he set his small, dark and emotionless eyes on her and for a brief moment, it seemed as if the two had engaged in an oddly timed staring contest. Just as the large man tensed up to dash at her, Veronica managed to mutter, "Shit," before running off down the street. She didn't even need to look back to know that he was chasing her, as she could easily hear the loud thuds of his massive boots hitting the ground with each step he took.

There was little time to pay much attention to the scattered groups of undead that littered the street. She did her best to avoid running near them, dashing past the various cars that now seemed determined to block off her path. Luckily enough, however, a short clearing opened in the middle of the street, an opportunity that she seized to brace her handgun and start running, rather ungracefully backwards. The hulk of a man ran only a few yards behind her, and she did her best to fire off several rounds at him. The few that hit their mark didn't even make him flinch, as if she had merely thrown small pebbles at him instead. While she ran backwards, the large man seemed to pick up pace and close the distance between them. As he came closer, he clenched his fist and reeled his arm back. Desperate to do anything to her pursuer at this point, Veronica fired off her last round, hitting him in the chest, which also proved to do absolutely nothing to him.

As the giant swung his massive arm through the air, Veronica jumped backwards from the strike and stumbled as she awkwardly began to pick up her pacing again. In no time at all, her attacker gathered himself from his missed blow and continued pursuit.

A massive pile up came into view in the distance, no doubt the result of some crazy traffic jam from when people were desperately trying to escape the start of the outbreak. Knowing that she couldn't hope to outrun the giant forever, Veronica began to sprint towards the obstacle ahead, leaping onto the hood of the first car she came to in hopes that the mass of cars would at least slow him down. With what momentum she had left, the young woman sprung onto the top of a second car, and went to leap onto a third, but as a massive hand wrapped around her leg and snatched her from the car. For a very brief moment, all Veronica felt was her body swinging through the air. As she was tossed aside like a rag doll, she dropped her handgun and smashed through the window of a nearby corner store.

All the wind forced itself from Veronica's lungs as she crashed against the floor of the small store. The world became dark and airless, as if she had been smothered by a heavy blanket. She might have fell from consciousness for a moment, but an intense coughing fit brought her back to reality as her lungs desperately tried to fill themselves with air. Shortly thereafter, a soft moan fell into the air, letting her know that she wasn't alone. As soon as the battered woman opened her eyes, she found what appeared to be a teenage boy looming above her. It soon collapsed fell on top of her, its mouth wide open and dripping with thick, yellow saliva.

Still attempting to get over the impact of her fall, she did what she could to block off the zombie from biting into her. Meanwhile, she ran her right hand down her side until her fingers wrapped around the handle of her dagger. In the next instance, the blade found a new home in the undead boy's temple. Still not content with simply dying, the creature appeared to moan in pain, and before its body fully shut down, it coughed up some more thick, yellowish liquid onto Veronica's shirt. Gagging, she shoved the motionless corpse aside, wiped the blade off against her clothing and slipped it back into its sheath.

For a few, sweet, uneventful seconds, she laid there, a bit dizzy and disgustingly wet. Of course, in the living hell she had found herself surviving through, the sound of the wall on the opposite side of the checkout counter crushed her few moments of peace. The giant that had flung her into the store followed her inside with all the grace of a tank. Veronica stumbled to her feet, knowing full well that lying still would have been as useful as direct suicide. The muscular, bald man locked his sight on his target once more and dashed at her, entirely unconcerned about the counter that stood in his path. Watching as one of the many things in the city that wanted her dead come rushing at her, Veronica felt a surge of adrenaline pulse through her beaten, aching body and she rushed out of the window she had previously crashed through. The giant broke through the counter as if it didn't even exist and smashed his fist into the wall, just missing the survivor.

Ever determined to reach the fire station, as if simply getting there would provide all the safety she could ever dream of, Veronica scanned the pile up of cars that blocked off the street for a quick escape route. If she could just make it over the cars, she knew she could reach the station, which had to have been only a few blocks away by this point.

She was already halfway over the barricade as the giant bashed his way through the windowed part of corner store, obviously not caring enough to use the hole he had already created while entering. As the familiar thuds of his full weight smashing against the ground as he ran once again entered the air, Veronica had already made it to the other side of the car-wall. The fire station was finally in sight, but the adrenaline that had pushed her this far began to wear off and her legs began to burn. She stumbled as she attempted to sprint to the station, finding it increasingly more difficult to raise her legs. The sound of vehicles being crushed and smashed behind her only hampered her spirits more.

She knew that if she didn't run, she would be killed. She had little choice but to push her body beyond its limits. Even though her assailant was still chasing her, having simply broken through the pile up of cars much like he did the walls of the corner store, she couldn't allow herself to give up,. The fire station wouldn't save her from this beast, and perhaps part of her realized that. However, if she was going to die, she intended at least to reach her destination. If she couldn't live through this disaster, at the very least, she would go down trying.

In one final, desperate burst of speed, Veronica dashed towards the large double doors to the fire station. The giant that followed her seemed to have grown annoyed at her persistence, picking up his own pace. Every now and then, she'd hear him brush aside a vehicle that stood in his path.

It was the last stretch, and the station that seemed so distant only hours ago finally stood before her. The small building itself was nothing spectacular and over all, a somewhat odd choice for a destination, but she didn't have time to contemplate these things. All she wanted was to get inside, and she found an intense sense of accomplishment as her fingers wrapped around the cold, metal handles of the two front doors. She pushed and pulled on them only to hear them rattle in place. The doors were locked.

Staring in disbelief, not even paying attention to the giant's footsteps as they grew louder, Veronica began to tug on the doors harder, screaming, "No! You son of a bitch! No!"

The thudding stopped, as if her pursuer knew he had finally caught his prey. The tired woman could do nothing more. She knew that it was over. Veronica released her grasp of the door handles and turned to face the large, muscular man. As much as the will to survive burned within her, her body had become physically exhausted. Breathing heavily, feeling as if her lungs would collapse and her heart would explode at any moment, she backed up against the door and closed her eyes.

The last thing she saw was the giant man clutching his hands closed into tight fists, his small, beady eyes focused directly upon her.


	4. Part 3

**Author's Note:** I do apologize for how long it takes me to update. If I could, I would continue writing just about everyday, but as it stands, I'm actually very busy with a great multitude of things. That said, I do assure an update at the very least of once a week, though I will try for more if possible. I do really want to see this story completed, and I intend to continue to work on it until then.

* * *

The world around her became pitch black and silent, as if she had fallen both blind and deaf in the short moments that followed when she closed her eyes. The danger of the ruined city ceased to trouble her, the near unbearable weight of the struggle for survival lifting from her back until, for a sweet, blissful period of time, it was entirely forgotten. The walking undead and the giant, trench coat clad man who had stopped at nothing to pursue her became nothing more than vague, surreal memories.

Breaking through her purgatory-like sanctuary came the faint pounding of a heart off in the distance. With each new thud, the noise grew louder, as if it were approaching her from the vast darkness that had swallowed her whole. As each rhythmic beat began to ring in her ear, she felt soft vibrations deep within her chest, growing more powerful as the beating heart came closer. Eventually, the noise became unbearable, causing her head to ache and feel as if it would split open with every consecutive beat. The soft pounding in her chest grew to feel like a sledgehammer slamming against her body.

Just as she thought she would burst from the increasing pain that surged through her body, the headache and the rhythmic thudding were replaced with an intense burning sensation. The sound of the beating heart became the crackling of fire and she wanted nothing else but to scream in agony as the newborn flames scorched her skin. Try as she might, she couldn't part her lips or make the slightest of sounds, and the need to scream mixed with the burning sensation that had taken over all of her flesh built up inside her and began to drive her mad. She wanted to claw at her body or fall to the ground. She wanted to scream and cry, but her body wouldn't budge.

She was bound, locked in place and upon realizing that she could do nothing at all, a sharp coldness replaced the fire. Even if she could have moved, she feared that doing so would have torn her skin from whatever it was that held her. Shortly thereafter, she realized that she wasn't shivering and her body had started to grow numb. Death had finally embraced her.

A flash of white light filled the realm that she was within, causing her eyes to water and blinding her. She couldn't move her limbs, having lost them to the bitter cold that had captured her body. Still, she felt her heart beating inside her chest, weakening with each passing second. In one final act before her life would give way entirely, she threw her head back and screamed until her voice began to weaken and fade away.

Her hopeless, terrified cries were replaced with a series of loud honking noises, then a siren.

Gasping for air, as if she had forgotten how to breathe for the past couple of minutes, Veronica's eyes opened wide to watch as her pursuer had his side turned to her. In no matter of time, reality began to wash over her mind once again, sending everything she experienced in that dark, horrid realm back into the recesses of her mind and she pushed her back against the locked doors of the fire station, glad to have something there to keep her from collapsing. The coldness had drifted away and was forgotten, replaced by the embrace of the early Autumn air. The rancid smell of decay and bile once again filled her nostrils, and the sound of an approaching siren rattled around inside her head.

The giant man braced himself, clutching his fists closed as he prepared to face down a threat that had, apparently, taking priority over crushing Veronica's skull. He pulled his arm back just as a fire truck came speeding down the street, knocking aside the occasional car on the way. As he sent his arm through the air, his fist connected with the front bumper of the truck, as if even he, with all his unnatural strength, could deter such a massive piece of machinery from plowing into him. In the end, he was overpowered and the truck crashed into him, knocking him back into a pile of cars a few yards down the street. Obviously not satisfied with just knocking the muscular man down, the truck continued on its course, coming to a stop only after colliding with the aforementioned car pile-up, either pinning the creature between it and some other vehicle, or crushing him underneath its weight. A moment later, and the siren's screech fell from the air and silence was once again restored to that particular part of Raccoon City.

Breathing deeply, Veronica clutched her stomach and her legs finally gave out. She slid against the fire station's doors to the ground, absently watching the driver's side door to the fire truck open. Every inch of her body ached from her desperate escape. Her legs felt as if they were on fire and her stomach and chest burned and itched. Her arms and legs had been cut in various places from when she was thrown through the window, and she had a sizeable gash across her right cheek. She hardly even noticed the cuts, however. Her entire body hurt too much for them to matter.

She lowered her head as footsteps approached her, staring down at the ground between her legs as her rescuer addressed her. "Wow, you look like shit."

Blinking a few times in disbelief of the words she heard, Veronica slowly tilted up her head and glared at the man who stood before her. "Wow, so do you."

"Hey now. I think you should treat the guy who just saved your ass a little better than that." Despite the entire situation, Kyle smiled as he looked down at her, his right hand running up and down his left arm, which was probably hurt when he crashed the fire truck.. Veronica wondered for a moment if he was smiling because he had saved her and she was still alive, or if he was merely an idiot who couldn't size up the seriousness of what had just happened. He walked over in front of her and crouched down, cocking his head to the side as he looked at her.

"Can I help you?" Veronica practically growled, still clutching onto her stomach as if it would soon burst.

Shaking his head, Kyle let out a short laugh and began to take off his fleece. "No, no. We'll just call it all even." He handed his overshirt to her, revealing that he wore a rather simplistic T-shirt underneath and that his left arm had already begun to bruise from the previous impact. "You might want to cover up before that falls off completely."

If she hadn't had been so exhausted and in such pain, perhaps Veronica would have noticed how whatever it was that the zombie-clerk had thrown up on her had managed to eat its way through parts of her shirt. That alone explained why her chest and stomach felt so irritated, and she supposed that she was lucky that no serious damage had been done. Still, she felt like kicking Kyle, and would have done so if it didn't feel like her legs had fallen off.

"I'm pretty sure he's dead!" called out the voice of a young woman from the other side of the fire truck.

As Kyle stood up to address his companion, a blonde teenager that looked completely ill-fit for the survival race she had been thrown into, who came running around the back end of the truck, Veronica tore off her old shirt, making sure to wipe off whatever was left of the zombie's vomit before slipping on Kyle's fleece. Discouraged that the smell would probably stick to her for days, she then attempted to move, despite still being unable to feel her legs. Needless to say, that attempt utterly failed and she let out an aggravated groan as she fell back to the ground.

"I bet getting hit with a fire truck cruising down the street would kill just about anything, huh?" Kyle laughed and shrugged his shoulders, casting a glance off towards the wreckage he had created.

Kathy walked past Kyle and looked down at Veronica, clutching a locket that dangled down from her neck. It bothered Veronica that her eyes matched the color of her blue T-shirt, which annoyingly enough, had the words 'Go Go Girl' across the chest in pretty, glittery pink print. This girl seemed like the type of person who could never handle anything serious for herself, simply coasting through life on the benefits that came with her looks. "Are you alright?"

"I doubt you really care," Veronica muttered, not bothering to make eye contact with the young girl. From the lack of a response, she figured that Kathy must have not heard her. "I'll live, if that's what you mean."

The young girl paused for a brief moment, throwing a glance to both sides before asking, "Where's Robert?"

As the next few words fell from her lips, Veronica closed her eyes and shook her head, wishing that she didn't have to bring up the image of Robert's downfall once again. "Robert's dead."

Kathy fell silent, bowing her head in remorse. Kyle turned around, finally tearing his attention away from the wreck and sighed. All three of them remained silent, giving the recently deceased man the respects he deserved. Words would have been pointless at this point, as so many people had died in the chaos. Robert was another lost soul, and while his death was tragic, none of them could let it bog them down.

Finally, Kathy broke the silence, bringing everyone away from Robert's death and back to reality. "What… What was that thing?"

Still not bothering to look up at Kathy, the injured, exhausted survivor replied, "Would you believe me if I told you it fell out of the sky?"

Kathy fell silent for a moment. "Um, at this point, I think I can believe almost anything."

"Right," Kyle interjected, running his right hand through his short, brown hair. "Let's not forget about the legions of undead lurking around. Now's a great time for playing catch-up. Though, I doubt the zombies will have much to offer in terms of conversation. I'm pretty sure they'd be total buzz-kills."

"Yea, well," Veronica winced as she attempted, for the second time, to get up. Using the doors to push her back against and take some weight off her legs, she finally managed to stand. "Unless you can magically open these locks, I think we'll need to go somewhere else."

"Tell me, Ronnie. Do you believe in magic?" Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a keychain, dangling it in front of Veronica as if he was trying to entertain an infant.

She snatched the keys from his grasp, aggravated by how light hearted and unconcerned he seemed. Following a short trial-and-error session with the various keys on the chain, she managed to unlock the double doors to the fire station. They swung open to the still insides of the building. The three survivors stood in place for a moment, listening and peering inside. None of them would admit to it, but they were all afraid of what could have lurked within their soon-to-be shelter. Still, necessity forced their hand and unless they wanted to spend the night on the streets, they had no choice but to barricade themselves inside and pray for the best.


	5. Part 4

**Author's Note:** Here's the point where I take a step back and discuss what happened at the start of the outbreak, and eventually, how Veronica met up with Kyle, Kathy and Robert. When I first wrote this story, I was aiming for everything before this section to be a nice taste of what's in store for the future before explaining the actual start point of the story. It may seem kind of odd to do so, and if I wanted to do a complete overhaul of this story, I might consider working it a different way, but as of now, I believe it works out well enough. So just sit back and enjoy until we rejoin our survivors back at the fire station.

* * *

_SEPTEMBER 24_  
PARANOIA

It seemed surreal to think that only two days prior to the three survivors entering the fire station that Veronica was sleeping soundly in her nearly empty, almost slum-like apartment. It wasn't the best living arrangements in the world, and aside from the essentials, she owned very little, but it provided exactly what she needed: a roof over her head, far away from the relatives she abandoned years ago. Like anyone, she would have enjoyed living somewhere more luxurious and often complained silently to herself about the constant array of bullshit in her life, but she had no intentions of changing it. It was a life of constancy and peace, and to aim for anything more would have only served to ruin the tranquil slump that she had fallen in to.

In the end, her tranquility was ruined anyways, and like so many starts to so many other wretched days, it all began when her alarm clock began to buzz at eight in the afternoon, just as the sun had begun to disappear, slowly taking with it the last few remnants of light that remained above the soon-to-be ruined city. Not five seconds after the alarm began to go off, the small, television on the T.V. stand across the room turned on.

"We have word that," the experienced voice of a news anchor announced as one tired fist slammed down upon the alarm clock, ceasing that constant, infernal buzzing noise. "Downtown is being overrun with these… savages. Police are advising all citizens to-"

With one hand rolled into a fist, rubbing her eyes, Veronica hit the off button on her remote, causing her television to fade to black and click off. Following that, having yet to push off the warm, comforting embrace of sleep completely, she stood up, dropped the remote on her futon and stretched, letting out one long-winded yawn in the process. Getting up for work was always a bitch and made her, on several occasions, wake up and immediately mutter the phrase, "I hate my life." However, the walk to work always managed to irritate her more, if only because it gave her plenty of time to remind herself just how much she hated working at that disgusting, small store.

As she got dressed, throwing on the very clothes that she would be trudging through the city with two days later, a young girl screamed from outside. Like almost any other individual, Veronica passed off the cry as a group of kids messing around and continued about her morning routine, walking into the kitchen to prepare some coffee. While the coffee maker began to gurgle and steam, she pulled a box of pop tarts from a cupboard, pulled out one package and tore off the wrapping. Just as she broke off the corner of one of the delicious, yet entirely unhealthy, breakfast snacks and popped it into her mouth, a loud thud came from her apartment door.

"For fuck's sake," she muttered, glancing down at her pop tarts briefly before, with a rather exasperated sigh, set them on the counter and walked to the door. Not particularly caring to bother with the little eyehole towards the top of the door, her hand immediately braced the doorknob and, upon unlatching the chain that had locked it closed, opened the door. A man stood in the hallway, slumped over with his head bent down, as if he was a marionette puppet dangling from strings. Upon watching her apartment manager stand there for a moment, Veronica said, "I told you, I'd make my rent payment next week. You don't need to keep harassing me like this."

The man, or what was left of a man, grunted and looked up. His eyes were rolled back and the skin around his face and neck appeared to be in decay, even though he looked relatively fine when Veronica saw him only a day or two prior. He reached out to grab her, and Veronica let out a small yelp in surprise as she took a step back. The zombie staggered after his attempt to grab a meal failed, but Veronica continued to back up, unsure of exactly what was going on. She eventually bumped into the horrid excuse for a wooden chair that she kept in her apartment for the rare occasions she had company.

"Stay the hell away from me!" Her words fell on deaf, uncaring ears as the undead monster continued to shuffle his way towards her. Finding no sense of life hidden behind his eyes and no sense of reason left in his body, Veronica grabbed her chair and smashed it against the creature. Like the true piece of garbage the chair was, all of its legs broke off at they collided with the zombie's body. Luckily enough, however, the impact proved enough to send it sprawling to the ground.

Veronica looked down on the twitching body of her landlord. She took a couple short steps towards the body, her eyes locked on how terrible he looked, her mind still doing its best to wrap itself around the entire situation. However, when the creature moved its head and began to claw at the floor, as if it were attempting to crawl, Veronica lifted the remnants of her broken chair above her head and brought it down upon the skull of the zombie, ending its wretched existence once and for all.

She dropped the broken chair, attempting to get over the fact that she had just killed someone, or rather, something in the body of someone. She had to take some comfort in the fact that if she hadn't killed him, he might have very well killed her. The coffee machine from the kitchen continued to gurgle, slowly dying off as Veronica, wanting to distance herself from the body, turned and approached the windows of her apartment. Lifting the shade, she was greeted to a dark blue sky and a ground painted red with carnage. A young boy ran into view, through the parking lot towards the back of her apartment building. A group of six or some zombies followed behind him, and in an almost all too predictable fashion, the child tripped and the undead closed in on him. Veronica could only stare for a few seconds longer, before she let the shades crash down, turning her back to the window as if that would make everything disappear.

After a minute or two of utter disbelief passed, Veronica brought her attention back to the unmoving body of her landlord. She took a few steps towards him before a low moan echoed from down the hallway, outside of her apartment. Her gaze switched to the open door and the word, "Shit!" fell from her lips just as she sprinted to the door, slamming it closed and locking the chain.

She pressed her back to the door and looked around her dim apartment, trying to calm herself down and think about what she should do. It was all too painfully obvious that she couldn't stay in her apartment, as a box of pop tarts and a couple mugs of coffee could only keep a person alive for so long. She had to figure out somewhere to go, and while she was thinking about just how she would get anywhere safety, the true actuality that she had been thrown into a zombie-survival situation hit her. She had watched those creatures tear into the poor boy, and had one come after her personally. There was no bullshitting herself about it, and she realized that it was more than likely that the streets were crawling with the things.

There wasn't much time to think about why such a crisis had occurred, or of any of the details involved in it. She simply knew that she had to leave and find somewhere safe. Walking to her futon, she pulled out a pair of sneakers and her dagger from underneath it, fitting both to her person before approaching a window on the far end of the room. She opened it and jumped out onto the fire escape.

Running down the stairs of the escape, she ran through several possible locations to run to, eventually coming to the realization that the police station would be her best bet. If anything, the authorities would have something to offer in terms of aid. That was, if they hadn't been completely overtaken by the monsters that lurked the streets. Still, given its proximity and the security Veronica imagined the station could offer, it seemed like the best option. When her sneakers hit the gravel of the alleyway besides her apartment, she ran off in the opposite direction of the parking lot, where the boy was still being feasted upon by the living dead. One glance towards the brutal affair was more than Veronica could stomach, and she did not intend to linger around. The boy was dead.

Winding through the chaos of the uprising dead gave Veronica her first tastes of the new, hectic existence she had been thrown in to. While the numbers of the undead were just beginning to rise at this point, they still lurked around the city's street and alleys like rats in a dump, and Veronica did her best to avoid crossing their path, often doubling back through alleys in order to take an alternate route. On occasion, she would spot a survivor in the distance, on their own journey to find some sort of sanctuary.

An hour after leaving her apartment someone called out to Veronica as she crept past a van parked on the side of the street. "Hey! Hey Miss! You're-You're alive!"

Veronica stopped in her tracks, as if it had been years since she heard another person speak. Her heart had been in a state of constant beating, her body on edge, and it was strange how simply hearing someone else speak was enough to put her at slight ease, despite how much she usually disliked others. Turning around, she saw a young Puerto Rican man leaning out the passenger side window.

She stared at him quietly, unsure of what to say. He didn't waste much time, however, obviously desperate and in need of help. "We can't keep driving. The road ahead is blocked, and my mother can't walk. My sister and I saved her from those things, but the fuckers managed to hurt her pretty bad. We really could use your help."

Standing still, reluctant to approach him, Veronica asked, "Were you heading to the police station?"

"Did you have something better in mind?"

She shook her head and took a quick glance around, noticing the absence of movement in the nearby vicinity. Then she approached the car and the man who had addressed her came out, followed by what looked like his older sister. The two led Veronica to the back of the van where they opened up the back doors to reveal their mother, a woman who must have been in her mid-fifties. She was lying on the floor, her eyes closed, breathing very deeply and slowly. With a bit of effort, the group managed to get her out of the vehicle. Veronica and the woman's son held the mother up as they walked, the sister taking lead.

It wasn't too long thereafter that the small group arrived at the station. The fencing that ran around the entire precinct had been mostly further barricaded off by spare vehicles and a diverse array of random clutter. Despite having arrived at her destination with companions, Veronica still felt anxious and worried, as if the entire plan would fall apart somehow.

"Hey!"called out the voice of a man from the other side of the fence. "You! Are you okay?"

The sister replied, "We are, but my mother's hurt!"

"Alright, alright! Come around to the gate. Hurry!"

In no time, Veronica was being swept away towards the gate to the police station, and it seemed that as soon as the gates were unlocked and opened, they slammed shut behind her. Two officers stood besides the gate, and another one, a man with red hair and a belly that boasted a little too much time donut eating, stood in front of the group. "Go inside and someone should be able to help you."

Veronica wanted to stay behind and ask some questions, but she was once again forced off with the group in carrying the injured woman inside, leaving the guards to their duty, as if they could repel a horde of undead on their own, should the horde decide to lay siege to the station. Upon entering the precinct, she had little time to be overwhelmed by its size and the amount of people, officer and civilian alike, running around. Almost as soon as they entered, a policeman with dark skin and stern, hardened eyes approached them.

"What happened to her?"

The brother replied, "She was attacked by those things! We need to get her wounds bandaged up, please!"

Veronica looked up at the officer, remaining silent as it felt as if she really had no place in this situation. After all, it wasn't her mother. She was, for all purposes, just a bystander. "Was she bitten?"

"Yes, is that bad?" The sister broke in, looking into the officer's eyes with what Veronica could only imagine was immense fear and concern.

For a moment, he remained silent, but finally shook his head. "No… We just need to get her to some help." He turned to Veronica. "Would you help me escort her there?"

"We're not leaving her side," the brother said firmly.

"I understand, but we need all the extra hands we can get around here. Your mother will be fine. I just need you two to make yourself useful until we have her tended to, alright?" Perhaps it was the look of understanding on his face, or the sympathy in his voice, but eventually he got the siblings to agree, promising them that they could see their mother again soon.

Still silent, Veronica helped him carry the bleeding woman off through a doorway and down a hallway. There were so many panicked people running around, some in hysterics and some huddled up against walls. Men, women and children alike had become overwhelmed by recent events and not a single individual passed by without a look of fear plastered to their face. An intense weight seemed to fall upon the young woman's shoulders as she watched humanity ball up against itself, cowering and crying to be woken up from this nightmare.

"You're not related to her, are you?" The officer asked as the three of them approached another door. The woman had passed out shortly upon entering the station, becoming more like a large sack of bleeding rocks than an actual person.

"No…" Veronica replied, keeping her gaze ahead of her as they pushed through the door into an open courtyard. A crow cawed overhead and, in the corner of the fenced in section, a small pile of lifeless bodies were gathered.

"I didn't think so." He began to set the woman down on the ground and Veronica followed. Part of her knew exactly what was about to happen next, but she didn't want to let herself believe it. She didn't want to believe that things could end so easily, that even one mistake could mean death. The officer took out his handgun, bowed his head for a moment, and then shot the woman in the head. "There's nothing we can do if someone's bitten. They all turn eventually."

Veronica stared down at the corpse of the woman she had spent so much effort in helping to the station. "What… What are you going to-"

"I'll tell them she passed away shortly after we got her to a medical professional, that she wished them both the best before passing." He put his handgun away and sighed. "It's late… You should go find a place to rest."

Even though she had woken up only a few hours before, she felt tired. The constant stress of being in a survival situation had taken its toll on her. After all the things she saw that day, she welcomed the thoughtless existence of sleep. "Yea… I'll do that."

The two walked back into the station, and the officer escorted Veronica back to the main hall. The woman's two children were nowhere to be seen. In fact, Veronica would never run into them again. Part of her was thankful that she never did, that she would never have to face them after watching the police officer kill their mother. She didn't want to have to blame herself for not stopping him, or face their accusations, as if it were her fault that their mother died.

"Tomorrow, go there," he pointed to a room on the western side of the main hall. "We are rationing out some supplies, and you could probably use something, even if it is only some food."

"I will." Veronica nodded, making a mental note of the location that he pointed out.

"If you need anything else, feel free to ask for Marvin."

"Right." She lingered for a moment, partially compelled to offer her own name.

She never did.


	6. Part 5

**Author's Note:** This is a long section, and it's all really backstory. If I wanted to focus more on the incident fstarting from September 24, I would probably go a bit more into the aspect of surviving in a locked down precinct for a couple of days. As it stands, this parts just to explain what happened prior to Veronica meeting up with Kyle and Kathy at the fire station and to provide some extra insight into the main characters.

Don't worry, we'll get back to the fire station soon. There's just one more fairly small section ahead before we get there.

* * *

_SEPTEMBER 25_  
ANXIETY

Sleep didn't come to her that night. Veronica tried to shut her mind off in hopes of finding some sort of comfort in a realm away from flesh eating monsters, but she never drifted off. When she closed her eyes, she saw her landlord in all his mindless, bloodthirsty glory reaching out for her. She saw a child being cornered by several walking horrors and a woman whose fate was sealed the moment she had been bitten. Instead of sleeping, she spent most of the night lying on the floor of a small library-like section of the precinct, which she assumed had been used to store various legal books and documents. Some of the other survivors who had taken refuge in the same room slept soundly, probably too physically and mentally exhausted to allow fear to keep them awake. A few, however, spent a couple hours sobbing and praying, as if either action would magically make the entire mess disappear. Even they, however, eventually quieted and fell asleep.

As the late hours of night turned to the early hours of morning, the young woman couldn't stand laying around in false sleep any longer. The silence of the room had drilled into her mind until she almost began to believe she had become deaf. While the pleas and cries of the other survivors easily wore on her nerves, she never expected the lack thereof to drive her to the edges of madness. Part of her hoped that some desperate fanatic would wake from a nightmare and begin praying for God to save them, if only to save her from being swallowed by the silent darkness that filled the room.

Veronica's left leg and arm had fallen asleep from lying motionless for so long. While the others continued sleeping, she quietly pushed away from the spot on the floor that her body had warmed for several hours. Upon standing, she nearly stumbled over a nearby family, her legs apparently having forgotten how to walk from being unmoved for several hours. Yet, perhaps, they simply didn't want to move, out of fear of where their motion might bring them.

Arriving back in the main hall of the station, she wasn't too surprised to find several police officers standing about. At least they were doing their best to protect the public, even though they had no real obligations, outside of their own internal morals, to do so by this point. Still, Veronica pitied them since it seemed like they were fighting for a lost cause. They were acting as little more than a paper-shield between the survivors and the creatures that lurked the city, and she knew that it would only be a matter of time before the shield would be torn apart. People were going to die despite their efforts.

"Trouble sleeping?" A female officer standing at a computer towards the back of the hall asked, bringing Veronica away from her dismal thoughts.

Looking around, she noticed that several people were sleeping in this room as well. There were a few others awake, wallowing within their own thoughts and fears while they had the chance. "No… I'm not that tired."

The woman forced a smile and nodded her head. She typed out something on the computer and sighed when whatever it was she attempted to do didn't work out. "I see." She paused for a moment and sighed. "I'm surprised we're still getting electricity..." She trailed off, as if offering an opening for Veronica to interject some sort of thought. When that opportunity passed by without a word, she continued, "I wonder how long we have until it goes down."

Veronica wanted to ask about what the police intended to do, if barricading themselves inside the station in hopes that someone would come in to save them all was such a good idea. She wanted to ask what would happen once they stop getting electricity, and about food and weapon supplies. However, she didn't. Instead, she remained silent, making a half-hearted gesture of recognition towards the officer's last words before wandering away, no longer wishing to think about how the future would play out. The more she thought about it, the more hopeless it all began to seem.

The following hours ticked by slowly. One by one, Veronica watched the other survivors awake, and soon the dawn of a new day was upon Raccoon City. Sunlight spilled into the precinct, as if attempting to give false hope to anyone foolish enough to think that daylight brought with it safety. Eventually, one of the senior officers made an announcement that food would be distributed to everyone in the main hall and that excess weaponry would be given to a select few in the room that Marvin had pointed out the evening prior.

Soon enough, several officers brought boxes of rations into the main hall and began to hand them out to various survivors. An eternity seemed to pass as Veronica sat in that hall, watching everyone approach and line up in front of the desk where they were handing out food, like sheep marching off for the slaughter. They seemed so utterly mindless, as if fear had wrapped itself around their bodies and made them numb to everything and everyone around them. For the briefest moment, Veronica thought that they didn't seem all too different from the shambling horrors walking around the streets outside.

While most of the various survivors in the precinct ate their poor excuses for breakfasts, some officers began to board up the various windows around the station. As they did so, slowly cutting off the false hope that the sunlight offered as it spewed into the main hall, several other survivors went into the other room that had been previously pointed out. Many came out empty handed, but a few walked away with various firearms, ranging from typical handguns to shotguns.

Not feeling hungry at all, Veronica stood up and began to approach the room. She didn't want to wait too long and risk the police running out of extra equipment. Oddly enough, it never really occurred to her that she would be denied a firearm, perhaps because she had no intentions of leaving that room without more than her knife. Instead, she glanced over at the makeshift barricades the police had set up against the windows, and wondered if a bunch of boards and nails would really prevent a hungry, undead horde from breaking into the precinct.

Then she realized that it wasn't so much to stop the zombies, but to stall them, and immediately stopped thinking about the subject.

Upon entering the room, which was a fair bit smaller than she had initially imagined, Veronica immediately collided into someone. "Thanks," she practically hissed, regaining her balance. "You could try watching where you're going."

"Why is it always the pretty ones that want to bite your head off?" He let out a short laugh before adding, "It's totally my fault that you bumped into me. Please, let me apologize for you."

All she had wanted was a nice, shiny gun to make her feel a little bit more in control, but no. Apparently, this asshole wanted to stand in her way and mock her, as if the ever-present threat of being eaten by bloodthirsty animate corpses wasn't enough to ruin her day. "Piss off." She brushed past him, walking behind the three men that stood in line in hopes of acquiring a weapon.

Like he had nothing better to do but annoy the hell out of her, the individual she had bumped into spun around and followed. "Ah, come on. That's no way to make friends, and with the apocalypse right outside these walls, I'd say we could use all the last minute fuck-buddies-err, friends that we can get." He leaned in front of her, a wide smile plastered to his face. When she didn't respond to his sad attempt at a joke, he went on with, "Alright, so the whole 'bumping into each other' thing didn't quite work out. Here," he held out his hand for a handshake. "Let's try this. My name is Kyle, and you are?"

Veronica ignored his friendly gesture and stepped up when the line moved after the man upfront was handed his gun.

Of course, Kyle didn't get the picture and followed her again. "Come on, you can do it. Start with, 'My name is,' and then say you're name. It's not really that difficult, you know."

"Listen," she glared at him as if attempting to beat him down with some sort of amazing, untapped telekinetic prowess, "I don't care who you are. I just want to get a gun. Okay?" She took another step forward when the line moved again.

"If you just tell me your name, I'll go. Promise."

Silence fell between the two and the line moved again. Standing quietly, her attention on the counter, Veronica felt Kyle staring at her, as if he were attempting to drill a hole in the side of her skull and pluck out her name with his gaze alone. Eventually, she became fed up with his presence, clenched her fists and muttered, "Veronica. My name is Veronica, now get the hell away from me."

Kyle smiled and took a step back. "Awesome. Thanks Ronnie." She gritted her teeth at his usage of that nickname, like the two had been the best of friends for countless years. "I hope you get something good. They gave me this little beauty." He lifted up a semi-automatic handgun, which Veronica was surprised that she had failed to notice before, and waved it back and forth.

She would have questioned as to why he had been given such a firearm, but in the end, she didn't particularly care. The line ahead of her had cleared up, and she only wanted to be left alone. "I thought you said you'd go."

"Right, right…" He shrugged and stuffed the gun into the back pocket of his jeans. "I'll see you around then, Ronnie. Try not to get eaten by a zombie before then."

Ignoring his untactful comment, Veronica let out a sigh as he left the room and approached the counter. An officer stood on the other side of what she assumed to be a bulletproof window. With a little bit of convincing on Veronica's side, he eventually handed over a handgun with an extra clip of ammunition. From the sound of things, they had even less supplies to hand out to the public than they had first thought. Already, their ammunition was running low and several valuable pieces of equipment had apparently gone missing. As such, he had been ordered only to hand out weapons to those he sized up as capable enough to use them effectively. Regardless, Veronica had what she came for, and without saying much of a goodbye, she left the officer alone to his duties.

From that point on, the precinct seemed to take on a hive-like quality, with various people swarming back and forth, focused on various tasks. Most were fortification of the station's weak points, such as windows and doors. Whoever wasn't busy nailing boards across openings or stacking up makeshift barricades, mostly sat against walls and cowered. Veronica knew that she should have joined in securing the station, as it was her life on the line as well as everyone else's, but she didn't, instead opting to sit back at the far end of the main hall and watch as the day unfolded. On several occasions, her mind drifted to imagining what the situation outside must have looked like. She wondered how many zombies were roaming the city and if any of them had set their sights on the precinct. From what she could tell, they had a few guards standing watch outside. Remembering this, Veronica found herself focusing on the two large doors that stood at the front of the hall, waiting for someone to burst in, bloodied and half eaten, to declare that the creatures had broken through the outer blockade.

"It's not fair." A voice once again pulled her from her thoughts. An older man sat not five feet away from her, and up until that point, he had remained silent. She hadn't even paid him much attention, and it seemed that he had done the same to her. When he spoke, she got the feeling that he wasn't really speaking to her, despite her being the closest individual to him. "What are you supposed to do when you lose everything important?" There was a touch of absent hopeless hidden behind his voice, making it all too obvious that unlike the poet who may write of tragedy without ever experiencing it in its truest form, this man had felt the wicked embrace in the meaning of his words.

Veronica had half a mind to reply, "Move on a get over it," but she knew better than that. Instead, she turned her attention back to those two doors at the front, anxiously waiting for the moment they would come down.

The man's voice cracked and he stopped himself from speaking again for a brief moment. "I thought… I thought I'd have time ahead of me, but there's no going back from here, is there?" Again, he paused, as if arguing with himself before speaking. "Even if we do live and make it out of here, how could we ever reclaim what we lost? How... How could we ever go back to living a normal life?"

"Pretend it never happened?" Veronica absently thought. She knew that he had started crying, and had wanted to stand up and walk away. If he wanted comfort in false hope, she wasn't about to deliver it.

"I… I can never replace them… I can never get that time back." He forced an obviously pained laugh. "I'm already dead, aren't I?"

"Then kill yourself and save them the trouble." This time, Veronica did voice her thoughts. She had grown tired with his hopeless musings, as if she wasn't feeling morbid and doomed enough on her own right.

The man replied with silence.

"You're not going to, are you?" She sighed and lowered her head, having no desire to look at him. She didn't want to see a husk of a man collapsed on the floor. She didn't want to pity him.

He sniffled and the two remained silent for a few passing moments. His next words fell from his mouth like lead weights upon Veronica's ears. "I lost my wife and son yesterday." She wondered how many other people could have said that exact same thing. "Why? Why them? Why let me live but take them away from me?"

Of course, she had no answer. There couldn't be an answer to the question outside of dumb luck or the workings of a particularly cruel god. She didn't respond to him, entirely unable to formulate any sort of reply. In the end, she was actually glad that Kyle walked by and took notice of her. It offered her an escape from the forced pity and torment the came with Robert's words.

"Hey!" the man who couldn't have been much older than Veronica interjected, as if she and Robert were not just discussing Robert's family being torn to shreds by the living dead. "Fancy running into you here, huh?"

The saddened, middle-aged man fell into silence again and Veronica was happy for that, half hoping that he wouldn't ever open his mouth again. "Yea," she replied to Kyle. "Imagine that."

Obviously, her sarcasm was not lost on him, and he cracked a smile. "You know, it's starting to get late and most of the police around here would like to get the survivors into a more secure location for the night. I was just on my way to that nice little library they have stashed away further inside. You two might want to tag along."

It came as a surprise to Veronica that she had lost track of time so easily. She wondered just how long she had been sitting absent-minded in the hall, then realized that it didn't matter much at all. The young woman stood up, figuring that she could use another attempt at sleep and having no desire to try to argue Kyle away for the second time that day. Surprisingly enough, Robert followed her and Kyle as they left the main hall and for a moment, Veronica feared that she would be stuck sandwiched between Kyle's overwhelmingly annoying demeanor and Robert's utter misery, but the middle-aged man remained silent, no doubt still dwelling on his loss. For that, she couldn't really blame him, but at the same time, she had no idea how she would feel if she had experienced her family being taken from her. It was hard for her to imagine being too upset over that. Kyle, on the other hand, continued to attempt to get Veronica to talk as they walked through the station, causing her to half wish that the zombies had invaded, if only to get him to shut up for a moment.

Shortly after walking back into the library, which seemed even more crowded than it did the prior night, Kyle led Veronica and Robert through the horde of mentally-broken survivors to a particular acquaintance of his. Robert seemed to follow along like a drone, while Veronica only followed Kyle's lead because, from the look of things, it would have been impossible to quietly slip away and find somewhere to rest alone.

"Try not to look so down," Kyle addressed a young blonde girl who was sitting on the floor with her back against a bookcase. "I brought friends for that party I was talking about earlier. This is that chick I met when getting my gun," he gestured towards Veronica, who wasn't all too fond of being referred to as 'that chick I met'. "And this is, ah… Well…"

Robert, apparently tearing away from his internal chaos, managed to mutter, "Robert." It was at this point that Veronica began to believe that maybe he was right. Maybe he actually was already dead.

"Right, Robert!" Kyle recovered and turned his attention back to the young blonde.

"I'm Kathy. It's nice to meet you two," she said to Veronica and Robert in an all too sweet and innocent voice. Almost immediately, Veronica disliked her. While others, like Robert, found a place drowning themselves within their sorrow and worries, she seemed to attempt to keep such feelings locked inside her, like she didn't want to appear so upset. Still, it was all too obvious that such worries and concerns were eating her up inside, and despite how she spoke those first two sentences, Veronica got the feeling that Kathy could, at any given moment, suffer a mental breakdown and begin crying.

The night carried on and both Robert and Kathy fell asleep. Veronica had attempted to tear herself away from the misfit group that Kyle had pieced together, but with no one else to talk to, he had followed her. The two sat together, Kyle continuously attempting to develop some sort of lighthearted conversation. Failing that, as Veronica did little more but reply in fake-enthusiasm and distant sarcasm, he decided to bring the conversation into more relevant subject matter, going on to explain how Kathy had been out with her friends when the disaster struck. She had no idea what happened to her family, and hadn't heard from her friends since the group split up. Somehow, Veronica couldn't find it in her to feel too sorry for the girl. It wasn't as if Robert had it any better.

"What about you, Ronnie?" Kyle asked, stretching out his arms. "Any interesting tales of loss you'd like to share with the class?" In all fairness, that was the closest he had come to being serious since Veronica met him.

Much like the night before, most of the other survivors had fallen quiet. Veronica wanted to embrace that silence again in hopes that, this time, she could actually manage to fall asleep. "No," she replied, her word as sharp and direct as a knife aimed for Kyle's throat. "And don't call me 'Ronnie.' We're not friends." Much like before, she completely shut him out in hopes that he'd leave her alone, and much to her surprise, he did.

"Fine, fine." He shrugged and then yawned before getting up and walking over to where Kathy slept, sitting beside her to sleep for the night.

As Kyle walked away, Veronica brought her knees up to her chest and rested her head down on her folded arms. "What the hell is your problem?" she whispered aloud to Kyle, never intending for him to hear her.

When the darkness of the library and silence engulfed her once again, she considered moving so that Kyle, Kathy and Robert would not be able to find her when they awoke. However, the need for sleep had already made its way into her body and she found herself drifting off into that sweet realm of unconsciousness that had escaped her the night before. Peace had come, and part of her wished it would never leave.


	7. Part 6

**Author's Note**: Here's the last bit of 'background section' before we get to jump back into the main story. It's somewhat short so there's not a lot for me to say. I do hope you all are still enjoying this story, and I do appreciate feedback. Actually, I appreciate feedback more than anything. Good or bad, I don't care. Let me know what I can improve upon, or let me know that you enjoy reading this story. Support and technique tips are always nice.

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_SEPTEMBER 26_

After sleeping for what only seemed like a few minutes, Veronica was startled awake by a loud, deep banging noise that echoed throughout the previously quiet library. Shortly after coming back into consciousness, she heard someone shouting. The chatter and motions of various other survivors soon mixed in with the cacophony of noises.

"We need everyone to stay calm! We are doing our best to hold off the creatures from the front of the precinct." She thought that the voice sounded familiar, and upon opening her eyes, she found Marvin standing on a balcony above, addressing everyone. Glancing to her side, she found that Robert, Kyle and Kathy had already left. "I'll be honest, I'm not sure if we can push them back, or how much longer we'll be able to hold them off. We are setting up an escape route in the back of the station for those of you who would prefer to take your chances on your own."

Amidst the crowd, one man yelled up, "What should we do? Stay or go?"

Marvin shook his head and took a step away from the railing. Perhaps he had said something, but Veronica didn't hear him. Instead, she broke her attention away from his direction and stood up. When she saw an opening through the mass of rampaging, chaotic survivors, she ran towards the stairs that led up to where Marvin stood.

"What happened?" she asked, not even bothering to see if he recognized her from two days ago.

"You need to hurry and either head upstairs to a more secure location, or get to the back and escape." He paused and lowered his head, almost in disbelief that it had finally come to this. "The horde outside broke through our outer barricades, and to make matters worse, some people who had been bitten slipped in under our notice and turned this morning. Things aren't looking good."

Veronica turned to leave, not particularly fond of the idea of staying in the station. If things were as bad as Marvin led her to believe, what little hope she had for the building fell apart. However, against her better judgment she stopped and faced the officer once again. "You can come with us, you know. You don't have to stay here." If he had been anyone else, she probably wouldn't have bothered to waste her breath in saying that, but part of her respected him from he did when they first met, for being able to take charge and do what had to be done, even if it meant killing,

"I know." The two words were simply enough in nature and almost completely foolish from a survivalist standpoint. Perhaps they both realized that the station would be lost. In the end, he would commit himself to fighting against the odds, and Veronica wanted to admire him for such bravery and commitment, but she couldn't. Instead, she turned and left him to his fate, without offering another word.

Despite the unneeded complexity of the layout of the station, Veronica did manage to wind her way through corridors of panicking people, and eventually reentered the heart of Raccoon City. Despite the sun's morning glow touching her skin, it did absolutely nothing to raise her spirits. She found herself standing at the back of a large mass of survivors that had gathered behind a gate in the back of the precinct. An officer with a megaphone stood at the front and began to speak as she attempted to push her way through the crowd.

"When we open the gates, we need you all to move quickly while we keep the monsters back. It's suggested that you make your way for the city limits or to high ground so that rescue helicopters may find you easier." In the end, there wasn't too much for him to say. He was about to release a large number of ill qualified survivors back into the city, most of which would find themselves dead within the hour.

Silence fell upon the crowd after the officer finished speaking and his fellow policemen began to unlock the gate. It was the calm before the storm, the last moments any of those individuals would have resembling safety. Eventually, the gate opened and just as Veronica caught sight of Kyle, the mass of survivors tore past her as if she didn't even exist. Before she knew it, the crowd began to knock her back and forth like a ragdoll until she finally fell to the ground. Upon giving up in her attempts to get back on her feet, it was all Veronica could do but block her face from the trampling feet of the crazed survivors and scream out random obscenities as they rushed over her.

When the worst of it past, Veronica wobbled to her feet, happy that her cause of death in a zombie outbreak wasn't 'trampled by a bunch of inconsiderate jackasses.'

Only one man stayed behind, and he approached the young woman as she dusted off her clothes and checked to see that her weapons were still secured to her person. "They, Kyle and that young girl, were talking about going to that fire station on 15th Avenue before sunset."

"They left without you?" Veronica said aloud in disbelief, ignoring the fact that they had most likely been swept up with the crowd in a similar fashion to her.

The officer with the megaphone cut off Robert's response. "If you two are leaving, you need to hurry so that we can close the gate!"

Without another word, Robert and Veronica ran through the open gate. The last they ever heard of the police station was of that gate closing and gunfire echoing through the air.


	8. Part 7

**Author's Note**: Here we are, finally moving on with the story. There's not much for me to really comment on here, so I'll simply again offer my thanks to those of you reading along and commenting on my story. I hope you continue to enjoy it ^_^

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_SEPTEMBER 26_  
INSOMNIA PART 2

Abandonment and solitude was the fire station, as if stepping into the small building had transported the three survivors into a completely different realm of existence. No sense of life existed throughout the building. No restless firemen walked down the staircase near the front doors, nor did anyone walk from the small kitchen at the side of the entrance room to the lounge area at the far end. A ping-pong table, once used as relaxation during off time, remained undisturbed and forgotten while a couch that stood across a rather small television appeared as if no one had rested on it in years. Contrary to the precinct from a time that seemed so distant and unfamiliar, the fire station offered neither the feeling of faint safety nor the comfort of companionship. It was empty and silent. The building had died with the rest of the city.

Veronica walked in first, stepping off to the side so that she could lock the doors after Kyle and Kathy followed. If only to annoy her more, the blonde teenager seemed to stick to Kyle's side as if she'd be completely and utterly helpless without him around. It seemed like a miracle that Kathy managed to live while Robert perished. At least he could have used a gun if he so chose to. Kathy seemed the type who would have wound up shooting herself in the eye if she had been handed a firearm. She was little more than dead weight on a boat that was already overloaded, full of holes and bound for the bottom of the ocean.

"Hey Ronnie," Kyle began as Veronica finished locking the front doors. It was all she could do not to groan aloud at his use at that oh-too-friendly nickname. "Why don't you go look around upstairs? I'll barricade this door and check out around down here with Kathy."

Delighted at the prospect of doing anything to separate herself from the blonde princess and the asshole, Veronica stuffed the keys in her pocket and approached the staircase. It didn't even cross her mind that Kyle had asked her to go off on her own when he was the only one in the group with a gun. "Ain't she a little on the young side?" she mused, figuring that Kathy had to be around sixteen.

Apparently, 'Jailbait' was too busy fulfilling her curiosity by checking through the small kitchen to hear Veronica's comment. Kyle, on the other hand, offered a short laugh. "Aw, sounds like someone's jealous. I'm sure the three of us could work something out, if you really want."

Rolling her eyes in disgust, Veronica began to head up the stairs, somewhat anxious to find a group of zombies and away from her companion's sheer conceited stupidity. "Jealous? Right, because I totally dig retarded pricks?"

Kyle ran to the bottom of the stairs and called after her, "Don't lie to yourself, Ronnie. We both know you secretly want me."

"Shut the hell up, Kyle." If Veronica hadn't been too busy fuming about how much both Kyle and Kathy bothered her, she might have been able to realize that for one very brief, yet all too needed moment, she had managed to forget about the hordes of zombies on the streets and the behemoth that had nearly killed her minutes ago. In fact, the throbbing pain that had been tugging at her limbs seemed to have faded and she no longer felt as if she would fall into pieces.

On his way to the lounge-like area at the far end of the entrance room, Kyle paused by the doorway of the small kitchen. From what he could tell, the room was a mess. A pot of something had boiled over on the stove and a puddle of spilled milk had formed in front of the fridge. Apparently not wishing to get her shoes covered in day old milk, the Kathy stood a couple of feet back from the open fridge, leaning over extensively in order to look through its contents.

"Tell me, do we have dinner or am I going to need to fashion a spear and go out hunting buffalo tonight?" Kyle leaned against the doorframe as Kathy brought her attention away from the fridge to offer him a small smile.

"It really smells in here… I think they all left in a hurry a couple of days ago." She paused and looked back into the fridge. "A lot of the food in here must have gone bad even before… um," she stumbled to find the right words, as if not talking about the whole zombie issue would make it magically go away.

"You know what they say about firemen," Kyle pushed away from the doorframe, remembering that he actually had to tend to something important.

"No, no I don't," Kathy replied as she knocked over what sounded like a bottle.

"They're untidy bastards."

When Kyle finally managed to bring himself to the couch, he stopped for a moment and examined the windows. He supposed that it would be impossible to secure the station completely with what materials they had access to, provided that there wasn't a smorgasbord of wooden planks and nails upstairs. In the end, they would probably have to lock themselves in a room upstairs that hopefully had a fire escape in case something did decide to bust through the ever-fragile windows. Somehow, to him, being able to look out into the ruined, desolate city from inside the station seemed to be an ill tradeoff for a better ability to keep the walking dead from breaking in. Shrugging, he took one last moment to curse the luxury of windows before focusing on the task at hand.

Pushing the couch against the front doors took considerably more effort than Kyle had initially anticipated, leading him to wonder if those 'untidy bastards' hadn't laden the couch with lead just to make him weak. When the task was finally done, he collapsed down on the piece of furniture and Kathy walked in. She stood in front of him, holding two cans of soda, one bottle of beer and an entire turkey sub bundled in her arms.

"This is all they really have here…" she trailed off, probably because she knew that meant that the three of them couldn't find safety in the station for too long. With an all-too-obviously forced smile, she added, "Unless you like moldy bread, spilled milk and spoiled meat. Oh, and dark green cottage cheese."

"Well, those are just a few of my favorite things." With a grin, Kyle reached up and pulled the young woman down on the couch beside him. She let out a playful yelp as she came falling down, clutching her small assortment of foodstuffs tight. "Think Ronnie's the type who'd beat me if I drank the only beer?"

Meanwhile, Veronica found herself standing in a short hallway on the second floor. Two closed doors stood on both sides of the hall. A quick inspection of the one to her right revealed a rather tidy bathroom, which sharply contrasted the disaster of a kitchen. Hearing the faint murmurs of her fellow survivors downstairs, Veronica groaned and approached the sink, quickly turning on the faucet to assure herself that they had access to water. After the pipes struggled and gurgled for a moment, clear water poured through the faucet and she shut it off. She supposed there was little telling to how long the city's plumbing systems would continue to work.

She was on her way out of the bathroom when she stopped in place and shook her head. Pulling her dagger from the sheath at her hip, she quickly turned around and approached the shower. For several long, drawn out seconds, she stood in front of closed shower curtain. With one final exhale, she grasped the side of the curtain with her free hand, tore it open and readied herself for whatever may have stood behind it. However, her paranoia had simply managed to get the better of her and she felt like quite the fool when all she found was a spotless bathtub. Somewhat annoyed that she had let herself get so worked up like that, Veronica put her knife away and closed the curtains.

Leaving the bathroom, she headed across the hall to a room that was only slightly larger. A bunk bed stood to the immediate left, a plant and an alarm clock on a nightstand by the window on the opposite wall of the door and a computer on a desk along the right hand wall. The first thing Veronica did upon walking into the room was glance outside the window for a moment to make sure that the undead hadn't swarmed outside the station, then shut the shade over the window, having no desire to look out into the city any longer. Next, she sat down at the desk and turned on the computer. It didn't take long at all for the screen to flash once and turn blue.

"A problem has been detected and windows has shut down to prevent damage to your computer," Veronica muttered in disbelief, as if God or Fate had made it top priority to piss her off. All she had wanted to do was attempt to connect to the internet in hopes of doing anything that might have led to salvation. Instead, technology decided to bitch slap her.

With a deep sigh, she restarted the computer. This time, she made it to the desktop before the familiar blue screen and error message popped up. Clenching her fist, she shook her head and restarted the computer yet another time. Of course, it decided to take its sweet time booting up, leaving her to sit in that chair and stare at a blank screen for a couple of minutes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of aggravated sighs and finger drumming, she made it to the desktop again. Clicking on the internet icon led her straight to another all too infuriating blue error screen.

Before she knew it, the words, "You piece of shit!" flooded from her mouth and her fist connected with the side of the computer screen, causing it to flash once and blank out. Any chance of actually using the computer had just been lost.

Kyle yelled from downstairs, "Ronnie! You alright?"

"Just dandy!" Veronica called back, muttering with clenched teeth afterwards, "You stupid jackass."

Not wanting to deal with that room any longer, the young woman stormed out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her. She supposed that it was better that she finished checking out the other two rooms, lest some hidden zombie sneak up on her. Besides, with her luck, the computer wouldn't have led to anything useful. Still, none of that made her feel any less aggravated at the world.

Doing her best to push away her anger, Veronica walked to the next room down the hall and slowly opened the door, making sure to listen for any signs of movement on the other side. When she managed to open the door all the way, assuring herself that there wasn't some sort of rotten corpse ready to tear into her jugular on the other side, she noticed that this room was a lot like the last, only slightly bigger. The bunk beds were untidy, as someone must have been napping in them before being called away on duty. Aside from the beds, the room was empty. However, something that did catch her attention was the fire escape outside the window and that managed to make her feel somewhat safer.

Finally, she made her way to the last room and began to turn the doorknob. She supposed that if some sort of creature were, in fact, lurking around up there, she would have already heard it. Still, it never hurt to be careful and she had no intentions of being caught off guard and snuffed out because some zombie in a closet managed to get the drop on her. Pushing the door open revealed a rather large room with various pieces of firefighter equipment scattered along the floor. A single hatchet remained hooked on the wall to the immediate right, an item that must have been left behind in the station's last moments of life. Perhaps if the room had been lighted a bit better, Veronica would have noticed the few spots of blood that had been sprinkled along the floor.

The floor creaked underneath each of her steps as she made her way further inside. Her heart began to beat faster as the dimness of the room overtook her. The shades of the windows were closed and a table at the far end of the room was overturned. Even more, a slight draft blew against her skin and she noticed the shade over one of the windows flutter before the breeze stopped, leaving her both wrapped in silence and chilled. For a moment, she thought she heard a noise and froze in place, looking around the dark corners of the room for some sign of movement. Noticing nothing by shadows, her fingers wrapped around her knife and she continued to walk towards the overturned table, committed to give in to both her sense of paranoia and her sense of curiosity.

A low hissing sound filled the air and Veronica's attention immediately turned to the window. Noticing that the shade didn't move made her heart freeze mid-beat and her eyes go wide. A couple of low ticks sounded off behind her, and when she urged herself to turn around, she found that her legs had routed themselves in place. She wanted to call for help, but apparently her mouth had gone completely dry and her voice had already ran away to hide. When a second deep, low hissing-like sound entered the air, she tightened her grip around the handle of her knife and pushed beyond the paralysis of fear to turn around just in time to watch a true nightmare drop from the ceiling.

Landing on all fours, a creature that only resembled a person in the vaguest of ways seemed to look up at her, regardless of the absence of eyes on its face. Almost as if all of its flesh had been brutally peeled away, the monster slowly swayed side to side, keeping its body low to the floor. All of its red, throbbing muscles were exposed, its front legs considerably larger than the hind ones. If only to make the creature seem more like it spawned directly from the bowels of hell, its front legs were adorned with rather large claws that looked capable enough of tearing someone's skull clean from their neck.

It let out another demonic hiss and before Veronica could even wrap her head around the entire situation, let alone will herself to move, a long tongue shot from the creature's mouth and wrapped around her leg. Not two seconds afterwards, it swept her off her feet and she found herself staring up at the ceiling in a partial daze.

Apparently hearing Veronica crash to the floor, Kyle yelled upstairs a second time. "Hey! You sure you're okay?"

The creature began to drag her across the floor, forcing her to scream out, "GET UP HERE!"

As her voice faded into the walls of the station, the creature pulled back its tongue, almost as if it sensed her next movement. Just as the tongue fell away from her leg, she attempted to slice at it with her knife, carving a nice gash into the floor instead. Not particularly enjoying the notion of staying on the floor with this monster running about, Veronica quickly scrambled to her feet only to be knocked back down as the skinless creature leapt on top of her. As it held her pinned against the floor, it hissed again, wagging its unnaturally long tongue in the air while it raised one claw up, no doubt readying itself to tear into her chest. Desperately, the young woman struggled against the creature's surprising strength, wanting to jam her knife into its throat and rid the air of its foul hissing. However, try as she might, she couldn't move her arm or dislodge herself from its grasp.

Staring up at the skinless creature's horrid, featureless face with its brain exposed on top like some sort of sick toupee, Veronica's eyes went wide as the creature threw its claw through the air towards her. Luckily enough, a quick succession of three gunshots broke into her consciousness and she watched the creature screech and writhe in pain. It finally left its prey to pick herself up off the floor as it leapt onto a nearby wall.

Throwing a glance to her side, Veronica found Kyle standing in the doorway, his attention focused on the skinless monster scampering along the wall like an insect. Kathy stood behind him, wide eyed and holding two cans of soda and the sub as if they would be of any use in the situation.

"What the hell is that thing?" Kyle cried out, aiming his gun for a second shot. However, before he could pull the trigger, the creature turned to him and shot out its tongue once again, wrapping it around his neck. Immediately, he dropped his gun and struggled to pry away the closing grasp of the unnatural, slimy muscle before it could snap his neck like a twig. Veronica watched for only a couple of seconds before taking action, but for a very brief moment she considered running away and leaving Kyle to his fate. After all, she had never liked him or Kathy and held no ties or concerns for either of them. Still, Kyle had saved her life only moments prior and a small part of her, burning deep within the pit of her heart, wanted to see that creature dead.

Dashing forward, Veronica slashed with her blade, splitting the long tongue in two. The section that wrapped around Kyle's throat almost immediately went limp and he threw it on to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. The creature screeched in pain once more and climbed up on to the ceiling before it launched itself down on Veronica, pinning her to the ground again. All the air expelled from her lungs as her back smashed against the ground. She desperately tried to get rid of that suffocating sensation in her chest while keeping the skinless creature at bay. It raised its claw once more, apparently ever bound and determined to see her dead.

Breathing heavily, fear and disbelief had far outstayed their welcome in her mind. At this point, Veronica stared death in its face for the second time that day. Her chest burned and her lungs were empty. No longer was she afraid of this monster's appearance or scared that it would tear her limb from limb. She only felt deep, throbbing anger working its way up her chest and through her throat. She resented this creature for overpowering her and she hated it for trying to take her life.

Before the skinless monster could so much as make one final hissing noise, Kyle lodged a hatchet into its spine, sending it into a seizure-like frenzy. Its screeching tore through Veronica's ears and its blood dripped onto her clothes, seeping through the fabric to warm her flesh. She wanted nothing else but to remove its infernal cries from the world and to see it lay motionless on the floor. Almost immediately, she knocked the creature to her side, embraced her knife and plunged the blade into its skull. Kneeling in front of the creature, she continued to impale its skull until all motion ceased, and then she continued to cut and stab at its chest and neck until the upper part of the monster resembled little more than a mess of blood, bone and gore.

When Veronica had started to tire and slow down in her bloodlust frenzy of assuring herself that the monster would never get up again, Kyle approached her and pried her away from its body. He held one hand against Veronica's tense shoulder and the other against the side of his neck, as if he were attempting to rub out the pain left from being choked. "I'm… I'm pretty sure it's dead."

Veronica looked down at the surreal image of a dead beast. Both her hands tightly clutched onto the hilt of her dagger, which had been painted red and dripped with blood. Her hands shook and she breathed heavily, still trying to reclaim all the air that had been brutally forced from her lungs. Her eyes remained locked on the creature's dismembered skull, still able to picture it looking right at her even though it had no eyes. Even in her worst nightmares, she never had imagined such a thing. Though she knew it was dead and knew it would never walk again, she found it hard to fight to urge to continue to stab and slice it until she passed out.

The sounds of Kathy vomiting in the bathroom echoed throughout the fire station, and for a good long time both Kyle and Veronica remained in that room, staring down at the unmoving corpse of the unnatural, skinless creature that had tried to kill them.


	9. Part 8

**Author's Note**: Not a terribly long section, but a nice one nonetheless. It seems that I often enjoy writing about dream-like sequences, because they allow me to play around with more abstract writing.

On an unrelated note, I think that I'm about to get into playing the entire Resident Evil series from 0 to 5, and all (most) if the ones in between. I've actually been playing 5 lately, as I got it about two weeks ago. I've found it fun, and the online games have kept me entertained, but I do feel a little bit of regret in the direction they've taken the series. I guess I just miss the whole 'Zombie Outbreak' scenario and playing as moderatly capable characters as opposed to secret angents and such. That said, I can't really complain about RE 5, because I do understand why they've taken the game in the direction they did, and certainly it has done absolutely nothing to ruin my love for the series as a whole.

^_^

* * *

"It's kind of funny how peaceful things look, huh?" Kyle stood at the window of the second bedroom that Veronica had explored hours ago. Night had whisked away most of the sunlight left in the sky and soon the three survivors would be left sitting in complete and total darkness until dawn.

Kathy stood at his side, peering out over the fire escape that wound down into the dark, desolate alleyway between the station and the neighboring building. "I can't make much of anything out…"

"Exactly," Kyle grinned and patted the young blonde on the back. "It's much better than that whole zombie infestation thing the city's been pulling off lately, don't you think?"

Sitting against the wall where the bunk bed used to be, Veronica noted how both Kyle and Kathy seemed more like animate shadows against the window than people. It was almost as if the darkness that filled in the corners of the room had decided to take form in order to keep her company. However, part of her wished both figures would meld back into the abyss from which they came and leave her alone, if only until morning.

The bunk bed was shoved against the door as a crude security measure, in case something decided to lay siege to the previously abandoned fire station. Regardless, it did little to make Veronica feel any safer. The image of the creature she and Kyle had killed in the room across the hall was still burned into her mind, so much so that every now and then she believed that she saw such a skinless monster lurking along the walls, behind the shadows.

It had taken her what seemed like hours in the shower to wash away the feel of the creature's blood and the stench of the zombie's bile that had been puked on to her stomach. She had stood in the shower, scrubbing away at her flesh until hot water refused to nurture her any longer. Even then, however, she stood there under the cold spray until she felt her skin begin to go numb. In the end, she left the tub stained with the faintest redness of blood and reluctantly put on the same outfit she had wore earlier. Instantly, the smell of blood and decay filled her nostrils once again, making her want to return to the shower and drown her body in gallons of water. It seemed that, regardless of how hard she tried, the taint of the city wouldn't leave her person.

The three survivors had already torn apart the turkey sub and guzzled the remaining soda, leaving little else for them to look forward to except falling asleep. Perhaps they were all a touch on edge from their most recent encounter and while Veronica coped on her own, Kyle and Kathy seemed to find some semblance of support in each other. It was odd to see how Kathy had shut down for a while after the creature was killed, merely sitting silently with her head bowed in the corner of the room. Even Kyle seemed to have some difficulty overcoming the trauma of nearly being choked to death by a creature only fit to exist in hell. Still, he pushed through and eventually found it in himself to work Kathy out of her inner worries.

"Hey Ronnie," Kyle called out, finally deciding to give some of his attention to her instead the blonde princess. Of course, Veronica completely ignored the fact that Kyle had attempted to talk to her on two separate occasions following the incident before focusing his attention back on Kathy. "You asleep?"

She waited for a moment, contemplating whether or not she should stay silent so he'd leave her alone. "No, not yet. What do you want?"

He turned his back to the window and it was all Veronica could do but picture his clothing partially stained with blood like her own. "Remember that guy I plowed into with the fire truck?"

She couldn't help but to reply, "No, I completely forgot about the eight foot tall body builder that wanted to crush my skull like a grape."

It was at this point that Kathy pushed herself away from the window and retreated to the other end of the room. Apparently, the young girl didn't want to be reminded of the horrors that lurked the city. After she laid down and her figure became one with the shadows, Veronica wondered just how long Kathy could continue acting as if she wasn't about to shatter into a million pieces.

"Well I'm sorry to bring back bad memories, but at least now you remember how I saved your life." He paused for only a brief second and Veronica knew that he was basking in his own self-glory even though she couldn't make out his face. "The first time."

"I'm starting to wish you didn't. I'd almost rather be dead that have to suffer through your company anymore." Part of her thought that, maybe, Kyle was about to ask where that large, muscular man had come from. Maybe he would have asked about Robert's death, but somehow, it seemed much easier and much more preferable to avoid those topics.

"Oh, ouch." He made some gesture, which Veronica couldn't quite make out. "You hurt my man-pride. Does this mean I get to insult your womanhood now?"

"It certainly means you can shut up and go find a hole to crawl into."

Kyle laughed off her comment, obviously not taking their banter seriously. Of course, the same couldn't have been said about Veronica who only found irritation within Kyle's voice. "Yea? Well, you have small boobs."

It was terribly difficult for Veronica to believe that he had just said that. "Really? What are you, ten years old?"

A howl from the nearby streets cut off Kyle's following comment. When the cry of a dog faded into the wind, silence fell back upon the small bedroom until Kathy spoke up in an all too meager voice. "Can we… just go to sleep? Please…?"

Veronica stayed quiet, not caring enough about how scared the blonde princess must have felt. Kyle, on the other hand, moved away from the window and walked over to her, taking a seat besides where she had laid down. Apparently, he had decided that he could offer some comfort to her so that she could fall asleep easier. After a while, it almost felt as if Veronica were alone in that room. Darkness had blinded her eyes and her companions had most likely fallen asleep. Sitting against the wall, she brought her legs to her chest, just as she had done in the library at the precinct a night before, and rested her head on her folded arms.

She couldn't believe how her life had turned out, that she had managed to escape the realm of constant emotional discord of living with her parents and develop some sort of poor excuse for a life in Raccoon City only to be stranded as one of the few remaining living people in a zombie outbreak. It was hard for her even to think about what she had to live for or what she would do if she managed to get out of the city. At this point, she remembered what Robert said to her at the precinct, that it might be impossible to return to anything resembling a normal life after this incident and that she might already be as good as dead.

"Such bullshit…" The whispered words fell from her lips, merged with the darkness and then were lost to the world.

A dim light shone in the far distance, like a lone star enveloped within a perfectly black night sky. It began to come closer, growing from a mere spec amidst the shadow to a small section of illuminated space within the bounds of nowhere. If the light had been present to represent a sense of hope, it failed entirely. Its dim radiance seemed to struggle enough against the vast darkness around it. It was only a matter of time before the darkness would overtake it.

As soon as the light passed over her, an intense sense of dread overcame Veronica. She knew then that she wasn't alone and almost immediately, her eyes began to play tricks on her. She thought she saw the shadows move, imagining hordes of the walking dead lurking behind the veil of darkness. Every now and then, her ears would pick up the faintest of hissing noises followed the tapping of large, hellish nails against a floor. The darkness moved even though it was still and the silence toyed with her ears until she thought she would go mad.

The light flickered and went out, finally taking away her sense of sight. Something brushed against her arm and walked behind her. When she turned to look, as if her eyes would be of any use, she felt someone walk behind her once again. This time, however, she knew whatever or whoever it was had stopped moving. They were watching her. She felt their gaze upon her skin and wanted desperately to rid herself of that vile, tainted feeling. She wanted to be away from this place, no longer to be alone in the dark, but somehow she knew that she couldn't run. Even though salvation seemed within her grasp, that she could run off into the black ocean and come out into the light eventually, she slowly turned around to face her fate. She couldn't run anymore and had no desire to let fear rule her life any longer.

When the shadowed form approached her, raising what seemed to be its arm to strike her, she lifted up her arms in a desperate attempt to block the incoming blow. In the next instant, a sharp pain ran up her right arm and then the bone began to crack. She cried out in agony as her arm snapped and then a gunshot fell into the air.

There was blood. Her chest felt as if it would soon burst, but even that faded away into numbness until there was nothing left to feel.

"I'm going to watch you bleed to death."

Pulling out of her sleep, Veronica woke to find an all too familiar darkness over her eyes. Night was still upon the city and shadow still blanketed the room. Her flesh felt cold and clammy. Her heart raced as her chest rapidly pulled in and expelled air. When she lifted her arm in an attempt to embrace herself, she found her hand shaking violently. It was all she could do but cross her arms and clutch her shoulders, hoping that the horrid sensation would soon pass.

Eventually, it did, but sleep never again came to her that night.


	10. Part 9

_SEPTEMBER 27_  
DEPRESSION

Veronica sat still and watched as dawn slowly crushed the shadows in the room that she and her fellow survivors had used as shelter. In a way, she wished that she could have faded with the night. Her aimless and tired mind, for a moment, turned to thinking of the man in the moon. She thought of how peaceful and simple his existence must have been, simply circling around the earth day in and day out. The man in the moon had no cares in the world, simply existing as a celestial entity. If he were to get bored, he could look down on earthly events. More so, if he caught sight of the chaos in Raccoon City, he had the option to turn his back and ignore it. He existed alone, in a completely tranquil sanctuary and Veronica admired the being for that, for having such a calm and simplistic, yet appealing existence. Then she despised it for being capable of existing in such bliss while her life had been little more than one troublesome experience after another.

Veronica left those bitter thoughts behind as Kyle and Kathy emerged when sunlight tore into the room, leaving behind their previous existence as nothing but formless blobs of darkness. For the longest time, Veronica found herself staring at the two of them as they slept. Kathy had fallen asleep on the floor, curled up into the fetal position while Kyle slept beside her. Despite everything else that had occurred, they seemed so peaceful and without care while they slept. For a moment, Veronica thought that maybe they had passed away, their conscious minds no longer wishing to deal with the living nightmare that had become reality. Her half-lucid mind even went as far as forcing her eyes to focus on their chests, looking for some sort of motion to assure herself that they were still breathing.

"So, is this the part where you tell me that I look like an angel while sleeping?"

Kyle's words yanked Veronica from the conscious daze she had slipped into while staring at him and Kathy. Her eyelids felt like lead weights and her body did all it could to scream for her not to move. Any grasp of time had slipped away from her perception and she had no idea how long she had been watching her companions sleep. She opened her mouth to say something, but wound up stopping short to yawn instead. Even though her mind wanted anything else but to fall asleep and risk another nightmare, her body craved rest and argued against even the most simple of motions. As it stood, however, Veronica did not intend to let her natural desire for sleep get the better of her when she knew that she and her companions could not linger in the station all day. Forcing through the cage of exhaustion that her body had entrapped her within, she rubbed her eyes and shook her head, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

Kyle seemed to have taken notice of her reluctance to move, let alone offer a witty and spiteful retort to his comment. "You slept well, I take it?"

"Yea," Veronica groaned, forcing her body to stretch out in an attempt to shatter her need for sleep. She would have killed for a large cup of coffee by this point. "Like a rock."

Kathy began to stir and Kyle reached over and shook her shoulder. "Good news, kiddo. School's canceled today due to zombies."

As the young blonde sat up, she offered an obviously forced smile and began to stretch out her arms and legs. It annoyed Veronica that even though Kathy most likely didn't intend to come off as such, her short stretching session only served to highlight her perfect, youthful features. Even immediately after waking up, she still looked as attractive as she had the day prior. The girl was a flower, acting as both a symbol of natural beauty and sickening fragility. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep working its way around her mind, but Veronica thought that she'd enjoy plucking off each of Kathy's petals until she was nothing but a stem.

"So..." Kyle spoke up, apparently gaining enough will power to tear his attention away from Kathy's chest as she puffed it out while stretching her arms. "What's on today's agenda, ladies? I vote for getting the hell out this city, but I'll understand if you want to go raid a bank or something on the way."

As Veronica contemplated how long and difficult of a journey it would be to reach the city's limits from where they currently sat, Kathy offered a suggestion in her usual, all too innocent voice. "Um… There's that supermarket a few blocks from here. We could try going there to get some things, like food… and stuff."

Almost immediately, Veronica replied, "We'd be heading back towards the center of the city if we do that."

Kathy offered no resistance to Veronica's opposition, falling silent like a dog to an abusive master who's told her to stop barking. Instead, Kyle took up the reigns in defending her suggestion, most likely because he simply wanted to earn brownie points for agreeing with her in hopes that it'd eventually lead to all too illegal and inappropriate nudity. "You know, it's not really all that far from here, and that store's bound to have more supplies we can use than a random corner store we might run across if we make a beeline to get out of the city." He offered an unconcerned smile, followed by a short laugh. "Besides, it's not like there's zombies or something stupid like that standing in our way."

In the end, Veronica would have put up more of an argument if she didn't think she would pass out if she remained sitting any longer. She eventually gave into Kyle's reasoning and got to her feet. For a moment, she thought of going off on her own to leave the two to their fate, but she knew that it wasn't entirely unreasonable to make the supermarket their next destination. After all, even if they did manage to avoid the hordes of zombies that lurked the streets, they would need nourishment eventually and as much as she hated to admit it, Kyle was right. The store wasn't all that far away.

"Fine, whatever," Veronica said aloud to really no one in particular as she forced her legs to move towards the window. Pushing it open, she threw Kyle and Kathy a brief glance before climbing out onto the fire escape. She couldn't stand to be in that room any longer. It felt suffocating, but once she set foot outside and the cool, tainted air of the city wrapped around her body, she realized that maybe suffocating wasn't all that bad.

She spent a good few minutes waiting at the top of the fire escape. Leaning against the railing, she noticed blood along the ground of the alleyway below. A turned over car blocked off the entrance to the alley towards the front of the station, almost as if some spiteful god had decided to place it there just to mess with the survivor who ran into the alley in order to escape monstrous pursuers. Luckily enough, the alley was empty for the time being, though Veronica had no idea how long that would last and hoped that Kyle and the blonde princess would hurry up and get outside.

Eventually, Kathy came through the window, her hair damp from apparently having washed her face. However, Veronica had little time to be annoyed with Kathy's poorly timed sense of hygiene. Taking note of Kyle's gun in her possession, Veronica immediately approached her, snatching her wrist. "Just what the hell are you doing with this?"

The young girl winced as Veronica lifted up her arm, looking off to the side as she spoke. "Kyle… Kyle gave it to me."

Still holding Kathy's arm up in the air, Veronica looked down at the young girl, sheer annoyance burning in her heart. For a second, silence fell between them until Veronica finally shook her head and released Kathy's wrist. "Have you ever even fired a gun before?"

"No…"

"Do you even know how to reload the thing?"

Silence. Awkward, frightened silence.

Veronica groaned. "You're just going to end up hurting yourself."

"I-I…" she stuttered, attempting to back herself away from Veronica only to press against the wall of the fire station. "I can handle myself…"

"Really?" Veronica took a step towards Kathy, who seemed to become even smaller and more meager than she was before. Still, the young blonde keep her gaze off to the side, almost as if looking into Veronica's eyes would have made her combust. "I didn't see you do a damn thing yesterday when I was about to be killed by that thing."

"I-"

Veronica cut her off. "What? You, what?"

"All right, ladies." Kyle came through the window and Veronica rolled her eyes, stepping away from Kathy. If she wanted to pretend that she could handle herself when it was all too obvious that she couldn't, then Veronica wasn't going to stand in her way. "Shall we get going? I could use some breakfast. I'm thinking a gigantic stack of pancakes."

He held the hatchet that he had used against the skinless, long-tongued creature the night before, apparently having decided that Kathy needed the best available weapon in order to make up for her utter uselessness. "Oh," Veronica spoke out as she approached the stairs leading down into the alley, unable to bare the presence of her fellow survivors any longer. "Tough guy wants to prove his manliness by using an axe while leaving his gun to the girl who probably couldn't use it to save her life?"

Kathy still stood against the wall of the station, staring down at her feet. On the other hand, Kyle ran to the top of the stairs that Veronica had begun to descend and called out, "So says the chick running around, stabbing everything with a knife."

It was somewhat surreal to be on the streets once again. When she left the precinct, Veronica had little time to reflect on her decision to leave. The building was being attacked and she knew that staying would have led to death. The fire station, while not a fortress in any right, held a better sense of security to her. Zombies hadn't swarmed the place in hopes of finding a meal. It was almost as if she had managed to remove herself from the city's notice, and aside from the incident with the skinless creature, she actually felt some semblance of safety within those walls. Of course, there's never time for rest in hell and Veronica had the feeling that regardless of how safe and hidden she imagined herself to be inside the station, it would only have been a matter of time before something stumbled upon her. Fate always had ways of screwing her over.

Kathy was the last off the fire escape. She remained silent and followed at the back of the group, still staying close to Kyle like a small, frightened child to her father. Veronica, apparently having more balls than the only male in the group, took lead and approached the end of the alley. It came as no surprise to find yet another street littered with the shattered remains of a previous, simpler existence. It was like a playground for the damned and even though the walking dead were far too mindless to appreciate just how disheartening it was to see the city in this condition, they looked right at home amidst all the carnage and destruction.

"How's things look?" Kyle walked up beside Veronica, who had stopped just before leaving the alley. It came as no surprise that several walking corpses roamed the streets, some penned up by various wreckage and others merely standing, lurched over, waiting for the scent of fresh blood to guide their movements. "Honestly, I was expecting a bit more of a welcoming party."

Veronica was sure that the only thing that kept the undead from forming a massive horde was the abundance of obstacles the stood scattered around the street. Also, she figured that there'd be a significant increase in the amount of zombies further towards the center of the city. As things stood, it didn't seem like it would be all too difficult to avoid conflict on their way to the supermarket, provided that another gigantic, psychotic body builder didn't fall from the sky to make her life even more miserable.

They stuck to creeping along the sidewalk, doing their best to avoid being cornered by any of the roaming zombies. Eventually, the initial nervousness and fear that came with traveling so close to the creatures eased up. However, Veronica knew the sense of dread would never dissipate completely. Each of the animate corpses seemed to embody fear in every aspect of their being. They were mindless and bloodthirsty husks, driven by instinct alone. The most horrid part of seeing one of the zombies up close was how it reminded her that they were, at one point, living, breathing, thinking people before being reduced to mere shadows of their formal selves.

"Kyle…" Kathy apparently realized that she wasn't mute and worked up the nerve to speak as they moved. She and Kyle dawdled a bit behind Veronica, who took point mostly because she didn't trust either of her companions as capable enough to do so.

It took him a second to respond, as if he was busy concentrating on other things. Perhaps he didn't expect either Veronica or Kathy to talk during their trip. "What's up?"

"Thanks… for the gun. It means a lot to me to, um…" she stumbled over her words for a moment before finally spitting them out. "Have you here."

That comment alone was enough to make Veronica cringe. It annoyed her that they seemed to get along so well, that Kyle continuously went out of his way to aid Kathy. They were in a survival situation, but somehow they seemed to manage to get over the constant threat of dying to become the best of friends. Kathy had absolutely nothing to bring to the table and Kyle must have known that Veronica would have been far more capable of using his gun. In fact, she realized that she could have simply taken the weapon from Kathy, but she didn't, mostly out of spite for Kyle's bad decision.

Having turned down an alley in order to rid her perception briefly of the all too casual, friendly conversation that Kyle and Kathy had begun to share, Veronica realized that something wasn't quite right. The undead that roamed the streets routinely filled the air with moans, but there was something else adding to the chorus of unholy singing. Faint tapping managed to keep a beat behind the zombies' moans, sending a sense of uneasiness to crawl over her skin. Veronica had stopped to listen, not particularly wanting to blunder out into the next street without knowing what might be up ahead.

When a dog barked, her heart began to pound against her chest. If she had been paired with almost anyone else in the world, perhaps the situation would have worked out considerably better. However, as things stood, she was paired with a teenager who only managed to keep herself together through denial. Kathy immediately let out a quick shriek, obviously having been caught off guard by the sudden, loud noise. Shortly thereafter, the faint tapping picked up and before Veronica could so much as turn to run back down the alley, a small pack of three large, bloodied dogs came running around the corner, their mouths foaming with the prospect of a fresh meal.

It was all Veronica could do but pull her knife from her sheath and attempt to run in the opposite direction as the savage dogs. Kyle said something that she didn't quite manage to hear and braced himself while, quite expectedly, Kathy did nothing but lock in place and stare, wide eyed at the three forms of death incarnate approaching her. Veronica would have fled the alley if one of the dogs didn't dash around her side and cut her off. It growled as Veronica came to a halt, knowing full well that the other two dogs couldn't have been far behind. However, the growl quickly turned into a whine as Kyle lodged his axe into the side of the beast, kicking it to ground as he pulled the blade out of its flesh.

When a second growl came from behind her, Veronica turned around just in time to have one of the other mangy, bloodthirsty dogs pounce upon her. It wasted absolutely no time in opening its mouth, ready to tear into her throat, but Veronica managed to plunge her knife into its neck. The dog cried in pain and more blood spilled onto her already stained fleece, but even a blade to the throat didn't stop the beast from its attempt at biting into her. She put up a struggle, pushing her blade further into the dog in order to keep it back. While she was locked in some sick, life or death contest of strength, the last dog ran by, apparently having its sights set on one of the other survivors.

Eventually, the dog's attempt at gnawing at Veronica's flesh became weaker and its barks and growls more strained. She began to twist her blade within the beast's throat, pulling it up towards its jaw until, finally, it went limp and she managed to kick it off her. It was only after the immediate threat of being mauled passed that Veronica had to force herself not to vomit from the feel and smell of its blood. More so, her arms trembled from putting up such a struggle and she wouldn't have imagined that she could have pushed herself up if it weren't for Kyle's call for help. He had been backed against the wall of the alley, the last remaining dog latched on to the midsection of his axe. It had him pinned and was desperately trying in vain to chew through the metal of his weapon to reach him.

Wasting little time, Veronica began to run towards the creature, pushing her body beyond the realms of physical exhaustion so that she might prevent Kyle from dying. When she got near striking range, however, a quick series of gunshots stopped her in her tracks. Three poorly aimed bullets ricocheted off the ground towards her side, and as if Kyle wasn't struggling to keep an undead, savage dog at bay, Veronica brought her gaze to Kathy, who stood statuesque, aiming Kyle's handgun in her general direction. All she could do was push aside her anger and focus on the task at hand, bringing her blade down upon the dog's skull in order to end its wretched existence.

Kyle nearly collapsed after the beast fell released its grasp of his axe and fell to the ground. Breathing heavily, he managed to mutter, "I suppose that makes us even."

Veronica wiped her knife off against her pant leg and slipped it back in its sheath. She offered Kyle all of three seconds to assure that he hadn't been severely injured before turning her attention to Kathy, who slowly lowered her arms. "What the FUCK is your problem!?" she yelled as she approached the obviously terrified girl.

"Hey," Kyle spoke up, pushing himself away from the wall. "She was only trying to help."

"By almost killing me!?" Veronica never removed Kathy from her eyesight, focusing on her with a rage nearly powerful enough to set something on fire through spite alone. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I… I'm sorry…" Kathy whimpered, shutting her eyes. She began to cry.

"I certainly fucking hope so!"

Sobbing, the teenage girl keep her head bowed and offered Veronica the handgun. "H-here…"

If Kyle hadn't cut in between Veronica and Kathy, she would have taken the firearm right then and there. "No, keep it," he said to Kathy with complete disregard for Veronica. "Just be careful next time, okay?"

Veronica could only stare in disbelief and say one solitary word. "Bullshit."

"You know she didn't mean to do that." Kyle turned towards Veronica, offering a serious tone that seemed entirely out of character for him. "We're all okay, so just let it go, alright?"

He paused and Veronica only offered a resentful glare in response. Of course he'd stick up for Kathy like that, completely ignoring the fact that she had nearly shot her. Veronica had no idea why she expected anything contrary from the jackass. Meanwhile, Kathy's quiet sobs filled in where silence would have been until Veronica had enough of both of them and turned to leave the alley. Truthfully, she was so angry at that point in time that she didn't care if they followed her or not. She would have rather faced the task of survival on her own than have to worry about being killed because some blonde bitch had shitty aim.

Turning the corner out of the alley, Veronica muttered, "I'll be damned if every god damn thing in this city isn't out to either piss me off or kill me."


	11. Part 10

**Author's Note**: I remember this part taking me a while to write. I don't think the supermarket agreed with my creative mind all too much, so I do apologize if this section seems clumsy. I really did look at it for a while before uploading it. Then again, I do tend to get paranoid over my work and I have had people tell me that this section is fine, but by all means, let me know if anyone has any issues ^_^

* * *

She was disgusted with herself, having thought that she would eventually get used to the vile smell that had been plastered to the air. For a while, it seemed as if she had, taking little notice to the smell of decay that followed every gust of wind. However, the blood that coated her clothing and stained her skin carried with it the pungent odor of death. The filth wound its way around her being, seeping into her very flesh. Despite her shower the night before, the feel of the city's damned embrace never fully dissipated and Veronica wondered if she would ever be able to forget how it felt.

Travel had slowed considerably following the event in the alley. As the three survivors approached their destination in search of some supplies, the streets became more congested with clutter. However, inanimate objects proved to be the least of their concern, as on several occasions, the group had to go out of their way in order to avoid blundering into a pack of roaming zombies. Dog barks echoed through the stale air every now and then, setting them on edge for minutes afterwards, all expecting to have another pack of feral, bloodthirsty dogs come running around the nearest corner. The exhaustion that Veronica had felt earlier in the morning had been completely obliterated as her nerves worked overtime in order to keep her from crumbling beneath the oppression of the city.

Silence was on the lips of all three survivors. Every once in a while, when the group seemed as if they were a safe enough distance from imminent danger, Kyle would make a random, usually inappropriate comment. Veronica imagined that he was simply attempting to lighten the mood, but still paid little attention to his words. Rage continued to burn inside her because Kathy had almost shot her and Kyle had done nothing about it, almost as if her close call with death due to blondie's stupidity meant nothing to him. It was impossible for her not to imagine what would have happened if Kathy had managed to kill her. Would Kyle have merely shrugged his shoulders, made some dumbass comment like, "So much for that threesome," and continued on his way to the store with Kathy? Just thinking about how little he seemed to care caused Veronica to squeeze her hands closed, half-imagining that she was strangling the bastard.

Of course, Kathy hadn't uttered a single word since the alley. After having two close calls with Veronica's unbridled fury already, she was probably terrified of angering her any more. Part of Veronica thought that was a good thing, that maybe the blonde princess would take more care with her actions. If Kyle didn't plan to do anything to keep Kathy from messing up, then perhaps she'd have to take matters in to her own hands. Veronica understood Kathy's place as a liability to the group and while she would never truly wish the young girl to perish, she knew that Kathy's presence put them all at risk.

Veronica found no solace in turning her thoughts away from her companions. Even when she tried to stop thinking of Kyle's annoying, uncaring presence and Kathy's uselessness, her mind managed to focus on other, almost equally distressing concerns. As the group got ever closer to the supermarket, she imagined that it would be swarmed with undead, if only to add one more obstacle, one more annoyance, to her already troubled life. She could barely remember how it felt to walk down these very streets to this store back before the incident occurred. Everything seemed so simple then and yet she had never taken the time to enjoy that simplicity. Going to the store had always been a chore and as she walked past a small group of zombies, she wished that it were still that annoying, weekly chore and not a matter of survival.

While the parking lot in front of the store did boast its fair amount of mindless, wandering bodies, Veronica felt relieved to find not nearly the numbers she had imagined. Still, she knew that they couldn't linger in the store for long, knowing that it'd only be a matter of time before all the nearby undead began to swarm the place. The supermarket was even less of a secure location than the precinct, boasting of large, easily breakable front windows.

Making their way through the parking lot, doing well enough to avoid confrontation, the three survivors approached the front doors. As luck would have it, the automatic doors didn't open, and with several of the undead beginning to notice their presence, the three survivors needed to act quickly. Veronica would have smashed through the nearby window, except that Kyle beat her to it. With a few failed attempts at slamming his axe through the window, no doubt a testament to the extent of his manliness, he eventually managed to shatter the glass.

"Brings me back to my younger days," Kyle grinned clearing out most of the glass that remained stuck to the window. "Breaking into stores in order to avoid being mauled by undead cannibals. Ah, to be fourteen again."

After they all climbed through the window, neither Veronica nor Kathy making much notice of Kyle's attempt at humor, it didn't take long at all for them to realize that they weren't alone. What once had been busy with the workings of various people running about to pick up groceries had become abandoned and desolate. The mish-mash of various conversations in the air and the constant beeping of cash registers checking out shoppers were replaced by the soft, lifeless moans of several scattered monsters throughout the store. It was surreal to imagine that the place had ever been anything else besides a home for the damned and a graveyard for the dead.

"We need to grab what we can and get out of here as soon as possible," Veronica said aloud to her companions in an attempt to assure herself that they realized how little time they could spare. The prospect of having a mass of rotten corpses blocking off the front of the store didn't appeal too much to her.

Kyle sounded off behind her, "Aye-aye captain. Kathy and I will go see if we can't find some sort of backpack to carry food in."

"Sure, whatever." Veronica began to walk away from them, throwing an uncaring wave in the air. It probably should have bothered her more that Kyle insisted she go off on her own while he continued to cling to Kathy's side, but she had no objections to splitting up, preferring to rid herself of their company, if only for a while. At the very least, she wouldn't have to worry about being shot.

"Hey Ronnie!" Kyle called after her. "Don't get yourself eaten. I heard that sucks."

His attempt at faint concern masked by poor humor was lost on Veronica. She wanted to be left alone and didn't give much of a damn what those two decided to do. Her mind craved some sort of momentary reprieve from the oppression her companions somehow managed constantly to lay on her. More so, her body screamed for some nourishment, namely anything to keep it from shutting down as her overworked nerves and adrenaline were running thin.

The store itself was in no better condition than the streets outside. Various food products littered the floor and aisles. Most of what hadn't been picked clean by other survivors had been left in complete chaotic ruin. Veronica imagined the place must have fared better towards the beginning of the disaster, but by the time she had arrived, it had become just another location for the dead to lurk. The city had claimed another building and aside from a few supplies, it would offer nothing to anyone ever again.

Veronica made her way towards the produce section of the store, doing well to note the various bodies that littered the floors along with all the random clutter. It was impossible for her to imagine how lively and active the store had been not even a week prior, but where shoppers once sought to replenish their fridges, only lost, soulless monsters roamed. Knowing that it was pointless to linger in the past, she cautiously walked past each aisle, listening for the now all too familiar groans of nearby undead. After assuring herself that any threats within the store were a safe distance away or trapped within the confines of a cluttered aisle, she managed to reach the produce section, hoping to find something relatively fresh and revitalizing to eat. Of course, despite having slipped by several other undead within the story, she managed to capture the attention of a rather obese creature on her way to one of the produce stands.

It was impossible for Veronica not to be intimidated by this particular subject of massive, rotting flesh. What, in a previous existence, used to be a large woman wearing one of the ugliest, bright green sweaters that Veronica had ever laid eyes on, stared at the lone survivor with lifeless, yet all too hungry eyes. A large piece of bloodied flesh dangled from her mouth since apparently, the desire to shovel food down her throat hadn't died off with the rest of her. It was almost comical how she waddled towards Veronica, arms outstretched, almost unable to bear the full weight of her body.

Realizing that, unlike the hallow husks of creatures that had grabbed her before, if this massive, zombified woman took her to the ground, Veronica would be unable to free herself and would probably end up being crushed to death even before the mindless creature managed to take a chunk out of her. As such, it didn't come as much of a surprise when she found herself backing away from the creature, not sure as to how to handle the situation. On the one hand, she could have run away, feeling fairly confident that she could outrun her pursuer, but she wanted to search the produce section for some food. Understanding that if she wanted to have any hope of finding some fruit to eat, she needed to rid herself of this massive, undead creature, Veronica stopped retreating. Watching the animate blob of slightly grey flesh-jello slowly waddle its way towards her, Veronica pulled her knife from its sheath and braced herself. As soon as the creature lunged at her, she took a swift step back and watched as the large mass of flesh fell to the ground. Wasting little time, she brought her heel down on the back of its skull and with a sickening crack, removed it from the world.

It came as odd how easily that entire reaction seemed to flow from within her. Veronica hadn't even taken the time to consider how she would eliminate the large zombie. Instead, it was almost as if her body had taken over, pushing any conscious thought to the wayside. She hadn't even considered how brutal and disgusting it was to feel a person's (or what used to be a person's) skull crumble beneath her foot. Only after the act had been done did she feel nausea begin to well inside her stomach. The stench of decay that had exploded along with the skull did little to help the situation. As soon as she began to gag, not even wanting to venture into thoughts of how long the large woman's skull matter would be stuck to her shoe, Veronica knew that she couldn't stay in that spot, lest she risk some of the recently re-deceased woman's undead brethren start honing in on her corpse. Quite unsurprisingly, she didn't feel the slightest bit hungry any more.

Her moment of recovery was cut short when Kyle's scream for help echoed through the store. Immediately, Veronica found herself wiping her arm across her mouth and dashing off towards the direction of the cry. She took little concern to the wandering undead, doing well enough to out maneuver them. The sickening feeling remained churning in her stomach, but she paid little attention to it. In fact, Veronica never even considered her dislike for both Kyle and Kathy as she ran to their aid. Perhaps she couldn't bear the thought of being truly on her own, the simplicity of only having to look out for herself being overshadowed by the lack of security and sheer loneliness. She had spent most of her life alone, but this incident was larger than anything she had faced before and part of her feared having to face it alone, especially if there were more horrid things than zombies lurking in the shadows.

It took a moment for Veronica to find Kyle and Kathy, but as soon as she did, the nausea in her stomach was replaced by anger burning in her chest. Kyle smiled and waved to her, his other hand holding his axe, which dripped with blood. "Ronnie!" He offered an all too friendly laugh. "I kind of thought you wouldn't come."

A few lifeless bodies laid on the floor of the frozen foods section. Apparently, Kyle and Kathy had come into some opposition, but both were fine. In fact, they seemed better than fine, as Kathy had a bag slung over her back, obviously full of various supplies. Even though Veronica was angry at Kyle for calling out for help when he didn't really need it, she managed to note that Kathy had, finally, become somewhat useful. She was a pack mule.

"What the hell is your problem?" Veronica yelled out as she approached Kyle, slipping her knife away.

The man shrugged. "Ah, c'mon. We were going to come find you anyways, I just figured yelling for help would be faster."

"You…" Veronica shook her head, ready to explode with rage. "You jackass! You can't just call for help like that! I mean-" She cut herself off with a loud, frustrated groan. "God! You know!?"

As Veronica turned her back to Kyle, unable to look at him any longer lest she accidently slip and begin stabbing him, Kathy offered an attempt to make up for Kyle's hideously poor judgment. "We found this bag… and gathered some cans and bottles of water."

Some of the undead from further down the store took notice to the three survivors and began to move. Veronica watched them rise from the floor and fumble around the random clutter. She half-heartedly replied, "Remember a can opener?" It was really all she could do to force away her intense anger at Kyle. She made a mental note that the next time he called for help, she'd 'conveniently' trip on the way to his rescue.

"Ah, damn," Kyle muttered, slinging his axe over his shoulder. "I knew I forgot something." He glanced down the store and watched as five lifeless bodies began to approach them. "Why don't you start heading out while I go do some last minute shopping?"

As much as Veronica was delighted at the prospect of Kyle doing something other than sending her off so that he could be alone with Kathy, the sound of glass breaking from across the store put a dent into his idea. Immediately, more undead moans filled the air and Kathy gave a concerned look over to Kyle, then towards the front of the store as if she was just waiting to have a monster walk around the corner.

"Well, that's not good," Kyle uttered, rolling his neck around his shoulders in preparation for whatever might come. "Which one of you invited the horde of zombies? I said, no more than five friends, ten tops."

"Can we…" Kathy stuttered, taking a step back to Veronica's side. "Can we please get out of here?"

Their words fell upon Veronica's ears, but she was more concerned with the small group of undead approaching from further down the aisle. Running back to the front of the store was out of the question, as she really had no interest in finding out just how many of those creatures had broken into the place. If they waited much longer, she knew that they'd be sandwiched in that aisle.

As soon as Veronica was about to suggest that they break their way through the small mob up ahead and head out the back, Kyle spoke up. "Think you can make your way to the back of the store?"

Veronica nodded, drawing her knife. She wasn't confident that she could kill five zombies on her own, but she was certain that she, at least with some luck, could break through them.

"All righty. Then I'll meet you two out back in a second."

"You can't," Kathy pleaded, clutching onto the necklace that hung around her neck. While Veronica wasn't too happy at the prospect of having to babysit the blonde, she had no intentions of staying in that store any longer. If Kyle wanted to risk his life for a can opener, then so be it. "It's not worth it…"

"We need to move. Now." There was little time for Kyle and Kathy to share some heartfelt, deep goodbye. The approaching group was far too close for comfort and it would only be a matter of time before many more of the roaming undead had their sights upon the survivors.

Kyle offered Kathy a smile and turned to head off in the opposite direction, towards the front of the store. "If I'm not out in five minutes, call the army." With that, he was gone.

Kathy watched the man run off for a moment before Veronica forcefully pulled her away from her concern about him. "Alright, listen." She took the young girl's arm and pulled her to her side. "When you see an opening, run. If one gets close to you, shoot it." Veronica closed her eyes and sighed. "Understand?"

The young girl vacantly nodded her head, looking down at the gun in her hand. She fell silent under Veronica's command and voiced no concern for her safety, unlike what she had done for Kyle. In the end, Veronica practically expected as much. She released her grasp of Kathy's arm and faced the approaching group of zombies. Setting her sights on the one in lead, she flipped her knife downward and began to run at it. She charged the group with intents of clearing a path, and all she hoped was that Kathy would have enough sense not to shoot her in the back.

Stopping mid-run, only a few feet from the lead zombie, Veronica braced herself. She pulled her arm across her chest, holding the knife above her left shoulder. Apparently having gained some experience from her most recent undead victim, she waited for the creature to lunge at her. When it missed, she unleashed her attack, plunging the knife into the side of its head and through sheer force, tore off its rotten skull. It slid from the blade and thudded against the floor like a small sack of rotten fruit. While Kathy had already taken to gagging over the sight, Veronica had very little time to feel ill. The remaining four creatures were closing in. It was difficult for her to keep track of all of their movements and she found herself backing away in hopes of buying herself a little time to figure how to act. Luckily enough, one of the remaining four tripped and fell to the ground.

Unluckily, Kathy yelled out, "Veronica!" and when she turned her attention behind her, she found that several undead creatures had made their way to the other end of the aisle.

"Shit!" Her immediate worry was cut off when a hand latched onto her shoulder. Cringing at the cold, slimy feel of the creature's hand, Veronica pulled away and then bashed her shoulder into her attacker, causing it to stumble back. As soon as she was free, she called out, "Run! Just run!"

Kathy, apparently capable enough to snap herself out of being overwhelmed by fear, took heed to Veronica's order and began to run down the aisle. She didn't look back as she ran by Veronica and the small group of undead, perhaps out of fear of the creatures or fear that if she did look back, she would see Veronica be mauled. In the end, it was all too difficult to watch the blonde princess run by without much apparent concern. Time seemed to slow as she fled to safety, leaving Veronica behind to deal with her own escape.

She would have run after Kathy except the floored zombie had grabbed onto her ankle, giving a second walking corpse ample time to take hold of her arm. Immediately, she wanted to scream, but found that her mouth wouldn't open. Part of her, a part that she thought had died a long time ago, wanted to cry, but she knew that she couldn't. She knew that to do so would be the exact same as giving up and she had no intentions of letting herself die.

With one forced exhale, Veronica shoved her knife into the skull of the creature that had taken her arm. Immediately after it lost its grasp, she tore her leg away from the other zombie and quickly began to run down the aisle after Kathy. The horrid moans of the undead seemed to chase after her as she ran past the remaining standing zombie, her mind dazed by the rush induced escape she had pulled off. Rounding the corner, she found Kathy waiting for her, wide eyed and breathing as if she were on the verge of suffocating.

There was no time for words. The two women shared a quick glance, each somehow acknowledging some sort of gratitude that the other was still standing. Shortly thereafter, they continued towards the back doors of the store, paying little attention to the signs that said 'for emergency use only.' Perhaps an alarm would have went off once the door was opened, but such a system, despite having little use in the realm of horror the city had been engulfed in, must have died with the rest of the building.

Upon leaving the dreaded cage of death that the supermarket had become, the city's air blissfully blew over Veronica's tense body, in a way reminding her that she was still alive. Everything that had transpired seemed to go by in a flash, and it was hard for her to believe that she had made it out in one piece. Still, the feeling of those creature's hands around her ankle and arm remained, continually haunting her like scars.

The two survivors stood near the back door, Kathy desperately attempting to recover from the sheer emotional strain of the situation. It took a while for her to gather the strength to speak, but when she did, she asked, "What… What about Kyle?"

Veronica closed her eyes and pressed her back against the wall. Going back inside would be suicide, but she didn't want to think about Kyle at that moment. She didn't want to feel obligated to go in to search for him or worry about his life. She didn't need that weight on her back when she already had enough trouble worrying about herself.

Kathy's last few words fell into the air and faded away against silence. "Should we… do something?"


	12. Part 11

Seconds ticked by like hours, but ultimately amounted to nothing. As Veronica stood beside one of the back doors of the supermarket with Kathy, she began to marvel at how little meaning time had come to have. It all amounted to when night would fall, as she didn't think any living person would want to be on the streets of Raccoon City with little more than darkness in the sky. The ability to tell time accurately, however, had become utterly pointless and it made her reflect on the reasons such ideas as 'Noon' and '3:30 PM' ever held any meaning. Perhaps it was because society inadvertently gave it meaning and after society crumbled, time too fell with it.

Kathy hadn't said anything since her last words went unanswered. It was all too obvious how uneasy she felt and Veronica could see the amount of worry and concern welling up inside her. For a moment, she thought that maybe Kyle had actually managed to become important to the young girl, standing as a protective figure in her time of need. Perhaps he provided the support she desperately needed in order to stop herself from breaking down and losing hope. How far her attachment to him went, however, Veronica had no idea. She would have liked to think that he'd be better than taking advantage of her in this situation and that she'd be a bit more intelligent than to allow herself to be swept away just because her life was in danger and he was the only male figure around to offer comfort.

Veronica wanted to say, "We can't stand around here forever," as she knew that they needed to keep moving at some point, but she stopped herself. Part of her didn't want to push Kathy over the edge by offering the idea that they should leave Kyle behind. Another part of her didn't want to believe that Kyle met his fate. Despite how much he irritated her, she wouldn't wish a fate like that on him. Still, she wasn't about to put herself in unneeded danger, and if it came to it, she would drag Kathy away and leave.

Crows cawed in the distance, bringing Veronica's attention to the telephone poles across the back parking lot. Several small, black birds perched on the telephone lines between poles. She imagined them staring at her and Kathy with beady, red eyes, sizing up the two survivors and guessing when they would perish. It was almost as if the city hadn't become creepy and hellish enough with the wandering undead and skinless, lurking monsters. Of course, it needed crows to linger around, adding to the already terrifying atmosphere. It was hard for her not to imagine the city eventually seizing hold of a would-be survivor's mentality and squeezing it until it popped.

A sudden slamming noise broke Veronica from her thoughts just before she began to imagine the flock of crows taking flight in order to attack her and Kathy. Immediately, her attention shot to her left where she saw Kyle erupt from one of the other back doors. He ran a few paces into the back parking lot before slowing to catch his breath. Kathy already began running to him when he caught sight of her and Veronica, offering an all too casual wave for the situation from which he managed to flee.

By the time Veronica reached him, she took note of the small first aid bag he held in his left hand. Kyle appeared as if he had seen better days, parts of his shirt and pants slightly torn and dirty from the embrace of the undead. His axe was wet with a fresh coating of blood. Luckily enough, however, it didn't appear as if he had been injured and even though she made no conscious note of it, Veronica felt relieved that she wouldn't have to end his life prematurely.

"I'll tell you this," Kyle began, his breathing rate returning to normal. "You haven't lived until you've ran away from dozens of zombies ready to gnaw on your brains."

Kathy ran her arm across her eyes and smiled. "You had us worried, you know…"

Veronica remained silent, wishing to neither agree with nor deny that statement.

Kyle let out a short laugh and passed his gaze between his fellow survivors. "I'm honored." He bowed, as if he had just performed some sort of amazing magic trick. "Not only did I get the can opener, I got us a first aid bag as well." He brought his attention over to Veronica. "We should probably get your shoulder bandaged up, huh?"

She gave him a curious look, eventually bringing her gaze, and then her right hand, to her left shoulder. Apparently, when the dog had pounced on her back in the alley, it had managed to leave a nice scratch in her shoulder. If she wasn't so concerned about the fact that she hadn't even noticed the wound, she might have found herself worrying about being infected. It wasn't so much of a stretch to believe that a zombie bite and a scratch could both carry the same sort of infection that led to zombification.

"Right…" Veronica muttered, pressing her fingers against the wound. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but not after staining the torn section of Kyle's fleece.

Kathy tugged on Kyle's arm, and then pointed in the direction of the door he had run out of. "We probably shouldn't stay here…"

As should have been expected, a few zombies began to make their way out of the store, obviously still in pursuit of Kyle. "All right. These assholes really need to lay off." He turned to yell at the monsters, as if his words would, somehow, break into their absent minds and make them stop chasing him. "No means no! Don't make me call the police!"

As much as she wanted to, Veronica refrained from doing yet another Kyle-induced facepalm. "Let's go before more decide to swarm out of the place."

"Right," Kyle replied, taking a moment to give the zombies a well-deserved middle finger. Kathy only nodded her head and the three survivors began to make their way out of the back lot of the store, back to the streets.

It was only a matter of time before the small group of survivors made their way a few blocks from the supermarket. They took momentary shelter in an empty back alley. Kathy set her newly acquired backpack on the ground and pulled out a bottle of water as Kyle began to rummage through the first aid kit. Meanwhile, Veronica took it upon herself to double check both ends of the alley in order to assure that they weren't about to let themselves fall into some sick, undead trap.

The first thing that Kyle said to her as she made her way back to her two companions was, "All right Ronnie. Take off your shirt." He held a roll of gauze and a small can of first aid spray.

Glaring at him, unsure of whether he was genuinely trying to be helpful or just being a perverted jackass, Veronica shook her head and replied, "Yea… I don't think so. I'll do it myself." She reached out and snatched both items from Kyle's grasp.

Before Veronica could walk away, Kathy walked between the two and handed Kyle her bottle of water. Turning to Veronica, she offered a weak smile. "Here, let me do it."

Glancing at Kathy, then to Kyle, Veronica sighed and handed over the medical supplies to the young girl. "Fine, but-"

Kyle laughed and cut her off. "Don't worry. I'll be the perfect gentleman." He took a mouthful of water from the bottle and turned around. Even though he sounded moderately sincere, Veronica couldn't help but to imagine him looking over his shoulder in hopes of seeing something.

It took a few moments for Kathy to tie the gauze over the cut on Veronica's shoulder. When she finished, the young girl proceeded to return the supplies to the first aid bag while Veronica put on Kyle's fleece once again. She was surprised that he hadn't attempted to look, and for the briefest of moments, began to think that maybe she hadn't given him enough credit in the past.

Of course, that thought immediately flew out the window after he turned around, handed her the half-empty bottle of water and said, "Alright, but next time I call dibs on bandaging, especially if you get hurt in the chest and-or the waist-ish area."

"Gee, thanks," Veronica scoffed before chugging down the rest of the water. It came as a surprise just how thirsty she was, considering she hadn't even thought of eating or drinking anything since the incident in the produce section.

Kyle went to help Kathy pack up and stuff the first aid kit in her backpack. Veronica continued to act as the look out, finally calling out, "We should probably get moving."

"Where to next?" Kyle walked past her, looking around the street just outside the alley.

Kathy followed suit, stopping beside Veronica. "How long would it take us to get out of the city?" It seemed like she feared asking this question, as if the answer would deal a heavy blow to the little amount of the hope remaining in her heart.

"Too long for us to make it out today…" Veronica replied, thinking it over. She figured it had to have been a couple of hours past noon. Provided they didn't somehow come across a vehicle and a clear path to the outskirts of the city, she knew that they'd have to spend at least another night inside the nightmare incarnate of the city.

All three survivors fell silent, none of them fond of the idea of sleeping through another miserable night, surrounded by undead and other hellish creatures. Kathy eventually broke through the silence, ever determined to make it seem as if she wasn't about to emotionally shatter. "We could... We could head to the elementary school… It's not, um, too far from here…"

Veronica was about to inquire as to why they should head to the school, but Kyle followed up Kathy's statement. "I doubt it'd be swarming with zombies since school wasn't exactly in session when this thing started." He turned to Veronica and Kathy, offering them both a grin. "Parents tend to freak if their kids have to go to school during a zombie outbreak, you know."

"Right…" Kathy nodded, pulling the straps of the backpack up her shoulders. "We could even stay on the roof… in case a rescue helicopter, or something, came by."

At the mention of helicopter, Veronica immediately thought back to how hopeful she had been seeing the helicopter pass overhead the day before and how easily that hope turned to sheer terror. "And if zombies storm the building? I'm not a huge fan of being stuck on the roof."

Kyle, apparently ever eager to agree with anything Kathy said, replied, "We'd have a great vantage point on the roof, and if we see that a mob of zombies start knocking on the front doors, we can get off the roof before they make it inside." With a shrug, he added, "Besides, I can't really think of anything better."

Veronica dwelled on the idea for a moment, realizing that the longer the three of them stayed where they were, the more likely it was that some of the nearby roaming zombies would take notice of them. "Fine, but if we can think of something better on the way, we're changing course." She still didn't like the idea, but as Kyle said, she couldn't really come up with a better plan.

"Lead the way, fearless leader." Kyle grinned and stepped to the side, gesturing for Veronica to lead the way out of the alley.

Much like they had done on their way to the supermarket, the three survivors opted to take alleyways and side streets, as opposed to struggling through some of the large hordes of undead that blocked off various main streets. It added more to the overall time it took to reach the school, but Veronica was more than willing to go out of the way in order to avoid putting her life in unnecessary danger. Of course, that wasn't to say that their route was entirely void of opposition, as every now and then they'd stumble across a few lone corpses, wandering the inner labyrinth of Raccoon City. In an odd way, each encounter with the zombies became less disturbing and difficult. Veronica hated to think that she was actually getting used to the nightmare that embraced her. In the end, she decided it was probably for the best if she didn't dwell on the topic.

About a half mile away from the school, Veronica had started walking several feet ahead of her companions. The cut on her shoulder had begun to sting, sending faint waves of pain through her arm every time she moved it. Every now and then, her stomach would growl, reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat that day. Still, the ever-present threat of the undead did wonders at staving off her hunger, allowing her to postpone submitting to the craving until they had reached their destination.

Having fallen into one of her familiar, survival-driven lulls of thought, Veronica began to wonder what sort of opposition they would find at the school. That thoughy, however, was stopped short after a loud, metallic bang echoed through the air, shortly followed by Kathy's scream. Turning around, much to her dismay, Veronica found Kyle backing away from the animate torso of what used to be a man dressed in a light grey suit. The half-zombie had apparently broken free from a nearby car and had its sights set on Kyle. Kathy had started to back towards the sidewalk, obviously terrified at the sight of a moving torso, and right into the vicinity of two zombies that emerged from a nearby alley.

As Kyle lifted his axe to end the miserable existence of the half-zombie that crawled towards him, utterly oblivious to Kathy's situation, Veronica drew her knife and began to sprint towards the young girl. She watched as one of the rotten corpses took hold of Kathy's arm. The young blonde attempted to scream, but nothing came from between her lips. In some last ditch, instinct-driven attempt to save her own life, Kathy began to struggle against the grapple of the zombie, managing to buy herself a few precious seconds before it would plunge its yellow, misaligned teeth into her flesh.

"KYLE!" Veronica yelled out, filling in for where Kathy's voice should have been. She knew that they needed to act fast and that a single mistake would lead to the young girl's death.

Having just dispatched the torso-zombie, Kyle turned his attention to Veronica, then immediately to Kathy. Wasting no time, he began to run to her aid. Raising the axe in the air, he brought it down upon the skull of the second zombie as it attempted to grab Kathy's shoulder. Almost immediately thereafter, Veronica plunged her emerald colored knife into the first zombie's skull. A few quick seconds afterwards and its grip went limp, allowing Kathy to pull herself away.

She fell to her hands and knees after stumbling away from the curb where the two zombies that attacked her then laid motionless. Deep breaths turned into helpless sobs as she began to cry. Veronica let out a sigh, releasing some of the tenseness that had built up inside her. Wiping her knife against her already bloodied and dirty jeans, she slipped it back into its sheath. Kyle approached Kathy and knelt down at her side.

"Hey, kiddo," he placed a hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her. "It's alright."

The young blonde shook her head and began to cough. "I… I almost… almost…"

Veronica had half a mind to say, "Yea, you almost died. Get over it," but held her tongue. It had almost gotten to the point where she couldn't count the number of times she nearly perished to this hell. She decided to let Kyle comfort Kathy, since he seemed so good at it, and after assuring that the two zombies she and Kyle had dispatched were, in fact, dead, she began to walk off towards the school.

Veronica hadn't wandered off far before Kyle and Kathy ran up to join her. Tears stained Kathy's youthful face and nothing besides fear and sorrow lurked behind her eyes. She remained completely silent, except for the occasional, lone sob that managed to escape. The city had finally begun to chip away at her insides and no matter how much the young girl wanted to pretend that it wasn't bothering her, Veronica knew that she wouldn't be able to handle much more. She then realized that, in a way, she was thankful to have Kyle around because she would be completely inept at keeping Kathy together and perhaps the young girl would have perished long ago if it weren't for him.

Kathy's near death experience still fresh in everyone's mind, ever the reminder of how brutal and unpredictable the city had become, they continued on their way to the school in silence. Even Kyle, who rarely passed up the opportunity to offer witty and inappropriate banter, stayed his tongue. They walked until the supermarket became just another bitter memory, until even their most recent run-in with the damned began to blur with all the other horrid events they encountered. Every street they passed, every walking corpse, all started to seem too familiar and Veronica hated it. She wanted to lock herself in a room and forget about it all, if only for a while. She wanted to pretend that they weren't starting to adapt to this hell as if it were normal. She wanted to pretend that fear and shedding blood hadn't become an everyday occurrence.

Although she had taken lead again, walking a few feet in front of her companions, Veronica heard the first words any of them spoke since Kathy's breakdown. It was Kyle addressing the young girl, and while Veronica was still thankful that he was around to take care of Kathy, she couldn't help but to wish that someone would watch her back the way he was watching Kathy's.

"Don't worry," he told the young girl in the most serious tone Veronica had ever heard from him. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."


	13. Part 12

It had never been agreed upon that the school would be looked to as some sort of hopeful recluse from their untimely existence in hell. None of the three survivors wanted to hear that their chances of rescue, even waiting on top of the four-story school building, were next to nothing. Veronica knew that they had settled on the school as their destination mostly in order to prevent themselves from wandering around the streets, off towards the city limits, which they wouldn't make before sundown. Safety was not going to be their patron that night, regardless of what they chose to do, and she couldn't help but wonder if safety and simplicity would ever again return to her life.

It seemed as if centuries had passed since she had embraced a simplistic, safe and dull existence. Despite how often she enjoyed cursing what the world had provided her: the dead end job at a corner store, a small, overpriced apartment with a scummy landlord, a complete lack of a social life and absolutely no will to exert herself in order to change any of that, Veronica did appreciate the fact that it was her life. As often as she woke up with the words, "I hate my life," on the tip of her tongue, she also knew that things could have been much worse. She valued her freedom and the lack of complexity in her life, more so than her eternal hatred for her job and lack of future goals. She missed being able to live like that, but in some odd way that actually scared her to consider, part of her enjoyed having something to aim for, something to give her purpose as she struggled against the undead. When it came down to it, all she had ever had was her life. She had to survive.

"I wish…" Kathy began, breaking the silence that had fallen among the survivors. Like so many times before, Veronica drifted away from her thoughts, back into the miserable reality around her. "I wish things could be different." The young girl choked back another sob. The city had finally started to make her crack, the tough exterior she attempted to put up having begun to deteriorate since her most recent run in with the dead. "I wish I could have said goodbye to my family… my friends…"

Veronica kept her attention ahead of her. She had no friends or family to say goodbye to, failing to sympathize with Kathy in any way. If she wanted to, Veronica probably could have willed herself to imagine how it must have felt to lose everyone important that she ever knew, in much the same way she had done when talking to Robert at the precinct, but she didn't. It was pointless and she had enough weighing down her spirits. Kathy was free to wallow in regret and loss if she wished, but Veronica wanted no part of it.

"C'mon kiddo," Kyle replied, filling in the void that Veronica had no desire of stepping into. "You're talking like they're already dead. I'm sure when we make it out of here, you'll find your whole family waiting for you. And you know what? They're going to have burgers. Big, juicy burgers."

All too familiar silence fell between them once again and for a moment, Veronica wished it hadn't. Silence allowed her mind to wander and it seemed all too easy for her to begin focusing on things that no longer mattered. She feared that the silence would end up driving her to madness and she was utterly helpless to push it away. Kyle and Kathy had things to speak about, ideas to share, whereas Veronica had nothing. Unlike the undead that roamed the streets in search of flesh, she could do nothing to prevent the silence from tearing into her mind.

However, Kathy's next words made Veronica wish that the young girl had just let the silence drive her insane. "We're… we're not going to… going to make it out of here… are we?"

"Of course we're going get out of here." Kyle, apparently, had to take up the role as the group's optimist, replying almost immediately, as if he hadn't even offered the question any serious thought. It was impossible for Veronica to imagine that he actually felt so strongly that they would make it out of the city alive.

"You don't really think that, do you?" Kathy let out a shallow, bitter sigh that practically tore through Veronica's spine. She hadn't heard her companion sound so hopeless before and even though she always expected the young girl to, eventually, begin to wither away, she found that she wasn't all too ready to watch as it happened. Much like her time spent with Robert, Veronica found it easy to pick up on Kathy's negativity, and despite her best efforts to shrug it off, it began to weigh her down as well.

Much like before, Kyle replied without much hesitation and at that very moment, Veronica thought that she began to understand why he always acted the way he did. He wanted to prevent his companions from losing what little hope they had left, doing almost anything in his power to take their minds off the seriousness of the situation. Still, this only managed to bring up the question as to how he truly felt about everything and if he wasn't as bleak and hopeless on the inside as Kathy. "And why shouldn't I? Things have a tendency to work out for the best. I mean, this one time I missed my morning bus for work, and you know what happened?" He waited a few seconds to see if anyone would offer an answer. "This guy came to the bus stop and gave me a sandwich. Sure, I was late for work, but I got a free sandwich and let me tell you, there isn't anything much better in this world than a free sandwich."

The group had cut through an alley as Kyle relayed his wonderful tale of obtaining a free sandwich from a stranger, which apparently he ate without considering, at all, the things said stranger could have done to the sandwich prior. Not wishing to think that much into Kyle's tale, Veronica remained in lead, emerging from the alley first. She almost immediately stopped walking, catching sight of something far more horrible than Kyle's attempt at humor. The school stood across the street, like a small island in the middle of a sea of vehicular carnage. Dozens of zombies roamed the streets like slow moving, mindless sharks, ever eager to find someone to fill their lust for blood.

"And because I know you're curious, it was a ham sandwich on rye with mozzarella cheese." He laughed alone until he noticed what had captivated both Veronica's and Kathy's attention. Leaving all of three seconds to take in the massive sight of undead blocking off their route to the school's doors, he stepped up beside Veronica and muttered, "The best laid plans of mice and men, huh?"

"You'd be the mouse, right?" Veronica replied without letting her mental filter stop her from saying anything. Her eyes focused of some of the closest undead, her hand finding its way to the hilt of her dagger.

Kyle let out an uneasy laugh, obviously taking as much concern in the mass of undead as Veronica. "That would make you the man then, huh?"

Ignoring his comment, Veronica continued to scan the vicinity of the school, doing well enough to note that entering through the front doors would be near impossible. With any luck, however, the side doors of the building wouldn't have as many lurking undead guarding them. "Let's try to make our way around-"

Kathy began to talk, her melancholy words drilling into Veronica's head like a jackhammer. "I… I used to go to this school…" She sighed and even though she stood behind Veronica and Kyle, Veronica imagined that she was on the verge of tears. "I grew up coming here for nine years… I…" She trailed off, muttering something that Veronica couldn't quite make out.

A couple of the wandering corpses took notice of the three survivors that decided to linger at the open end of the alley. Veronica braced her knife, almost as if she had actually planned to charge right through the army of undead that stood between her and the school. It was odd how reaching for her weapon seemed to become second nature whenever danger came too close for comfort.

"Can we go somewhere else, please?" Kathy pleaded, her voiced both strained and frantic. "I… I don't want to be here… I can't-"

"Like we'd let anything happen to you," Kyle reassured, throwing a glance and a smile over his shoulder to the young girl. He then nudged Veronica, adding, "Right, Ronnie?"

Before Veronica could think of an answer besides, "You need to stop fucking calling me that," or "We can't just turn back because Goldilocks is finally understanding how shitty this situation is," Kathy cut her off.

"I just want to go somewhere else. Anywhere." Her voice cracked. "Please? They've probably already gotten into the school anyways…"

Veronica took a step back as a few more of the nearby undead noticed the presence of fresh meat. She didn't like the looks of the situation and even if Kathy had slipped into a distressed delirium, Veronica imagined that the insides of the school couldn't really have been too much better than the streets outside. "Maybe she's right-"

A loud, deep thud cut Veronica off, instantly silencing any thoughts the survivors would have had of changing plans. In unison, they looked behind them, to the other end of the alley, and if Veronica could have forced herself to speak over the rising sensation of nausea and fear, she would have uttered the exact same phrase that she had said the first time this creature confronted her. "Shit."

Like some sort of psychotic killer from a slasher movie who refused to stay dead, the same muscular giant that had chased Veronica to the fire station from the day before blocked off the other end of the alley. His trench coat hung from his shoulders in tatters, parts of his flesh bearing obvious cuts. Other than that, however, he looked the exact opposite that one would expect from being smashed into by a fire truck. His fists were clutched closed, like two heavy maces hanging down from his arms and his small, black, lifeless eyes focused on the three survivors.

Both Kyle and Veronica fell speechless at the sight of the very creature they had assumed died. Kathy began to breathe faster, almost as if she was on the verge of hyperventilating, backing up between her companions. As soon as her shoulders hit Kyle's and Veronica's, she began to shake her head in fearful disbelief, muttering, "No… No, no, no…"

The giant began to step towards the three survivors and several lifeless, hungry moans echoed from the street behind them.

"I-I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die!" Kathy began chanting, clutching the necklace around her neck. "I don't want to die!" She took another step back, pushing between Veronica and Kyle, paused for a moment and then began to run down the street, away from the school. It finally happened. There remained nothing left of Kathy except a frightened little girl in a situation that she would never be able to handle.

As soon as the young girl began her mad dash to escape imminent death, Kyle turned and called out, "Kathy! Wait!" In no time at all, he ran off after her, dodging the incoming undead.

Veronica's eyes widened as she watched him run off, her legs urging her to move in order to give chase. However, the undead from the street had already closed in, and it was only by some sort of miracle that Kyle managed to escape their grasp. Her legs having become like lead weights, her breathing and heart rate picking up considerably, Veronica did the only thing she could do and screamed out at Kyle, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? KYLE!"

Perhaps she would have begged him not to leave her alone, to come back and help her, but the loud thuds of the giant's footsteps made her mouth go dry. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him running after her. She was pinned between the muscle bound giant and a handful of zombies and as afraid as she was, as much as she wanted to scream, the only thought running through her head was that of sheer hatred for Kyle, for him leaving her alone.


	14. Part 13

**Author's Note**: My initial drafts have the next few sections in a different order, but I opted to change them around in hopes of providing something a little more powerful. I'll see if I remember to make mention of my initial order a few sections from now so that you all can let me know if I made a good decision to rearrange them.

As always, enjoy reading ^_^

* * *

If the survival instinct that had carried Veronica so far through the disaster hadn't kicked in when it did, she would have found herself crushed by the humanized equivalent of a wrecking ball that charged at her. However, the veil of anger and fear subsided long enough for her to wrap her mind around the situation, for her to once again hear the drum-like beating of her heart intermingle with the beat of the giant's footsteps. As the hulking mass of muscle fell upon her, raising his joint fists into the air, she managed to sidestep his attempt to drive her into the ground like a nail and then ducked underneath his arms as he swung them to his side.

Veronica felt the sharp touch of the wind from the giant's missed attacks slice across the side of her face. Perhaps fear should have taken hold of her mind, much like it had done to Kathy, but it only forced her heart to pound behind her chest. While her body had become little else but a shell containing a cocktail of emotions, conscious thought failed her. She felt afraid for her life, angry at Kyle and Kathy, but her body refused to submit to these feelings, possibly knowing better than to let its guard down. Maybe, however, part of her wanted to embrace that moment, to forget her existence as a person, as a living being, and become another mindless freak roaming the city. She never bothered giving the rotten corpse that fell to the ground in an attempt to tackle her any second of consideration before driving her foot into its skull, ending its miserable life in order to preserve her own.

"Damnit..." fell from her lips as she witnessed the hulking beast at her side recover from his missed attacks and the various undead gather at the end of the alley to form a hellish barricade of decaying bodies. As slow as they all appeared to go, seconds playing out like hours, reality eventually caught up, leaving Veronica surrounded by things that wanted to see her dead.

One of the many zombies that had closed in reached out for Veronica just as she began to back up to run. The muscular giant wrapped his hand around the rotting creature's skull and tossed the body aside like a ragdoll, apparently wanting to have the pleasure of killing Veronica all to himself. In an act that would later help convince her that she was losing her will to the hell that had become Raccoon City, Veronica wasted no time in contemplating the giant's action and dashed for the open end of the alley. Of course, it was no longer after the disturbing sound of a body snapping upon impact with one of the walls of the alley took to the air than the giant's massive, heavy footsteps echoed down the alley, which proved to be all the motivation Veronica needed to pick up pace, once again pushing her body dangerously close to its limits.

Emerging from the alley and escaping from the claustrophobia of imminent death offered no relief. Provided with enough room to maneuver, outrunning zombies had always been a somewhat simple task given past encounters. She knew, however, that the giant would not stop chasing her short of being hit with yet another fire truck, and somehow Veronica knew that Kyle wouldn't manage to pull that off again. The bastard was probably far too busy attempting to plow Kathy to give Veronica's distress any second thought.

Running around the front of a car that stood directly between her and her path to the opposite side of the street, the only thing Veronica knew was that she needed to run. The creature chasing her merely shoved the vehicle aside in his pursuit, obviously far too focused on Veronica to take the half-second longer walk around the thing. In what amounted to little more than a last ditch effort to preserve her life, knowing that the giant was practically on her heels, Veronica jumped from the curb, latched her hand on to a light post and swung herself of to the side, dodging the giant as he nearly charged right through her. The sound of the muscular creature crashing into the wall of a building acted as a short, delightful tune to lift Veronica's spirits, even after she failed to regain her balance upon hitting the sidewalk and ended up tumbling to the ground.

Even if she had wanted to lay there and bask in the glory of defying the cruel forces that conspired against her very existence on yet another short-lived occasion, the burning sensation that run up Veronica's left forearm kept her bound to the realm of reality. Knowing that she couldn't afford to stay in one place too long, as she was sure the giant would recover from his meeting with a brick wall in no time, Veronica picked herself up. Her arm had been grated against the cement, small bits of rocks had stuck to her torn flesh and thin streams of blood began to run down to her fingertips.

Because the city never fell behind in the effort to make Veronica's struggle to live more complicated and unpleasant, some more zombies had taken notice of her and began to make their way towards the sidewalk. Fighting the urge to pluck the bits of cement from her wound and look over her shoulder to check on her pursuer's status, Veronica took off down the street. It wasn't long before the giant's heavy thuds once again filled the air. Try as she might to maneuver around the walking dead and lifeless vehicles, her body eventually began to tire. With no other opportunities to give her chaser the slip, her legs began to burn and grow weak, her lungs struggling to take in enough air to carry her along any further. The creature that chased her caught up, wrapped one bulging hand around her arm and pulled her into him. She let out a startled, weak gasp as she spun through the air and came face to face with the muscular being.

His hand didn't feel cold, like the decaying bodies that had grabbed on to her before, but it didn't feel warm either. It was empty. The skin felt like worn sandpaper, dull enough not to tear into her flesh but coarse enough to hurt. Even though she felt the giant's movements, looked into his small, black, beady eyes, she knew that he was neither living nor dead. He was an empty entity in the shell of a living creature, existence standing as the only purpose behind his being. If Veronica were thinking, perhaps she would have pitied him for such a terrible existence, but then again, such a creature would probably not be fit for pity.

All Veronica could manage to do was reach down with her free arm and take hold of her knife, knowing full well that any attempt to struggle her way free through sheer might would be hopeless. However, even before she had the chance to jam her blade into the creature's wrist, his other bulky hand wrapped around her neck and lifted her into the air. He released her arm, letting the blood from her scrap drip from her fingertips to a small puddle on the street below.

At first, she attempted to pry his grasp from her throat, sheer desperation causing her to forget entirely about the knife she held in her hand. As her throat closed, even her feeble attempt to match the giant's strength began to fade, her fingers slipping from his hand as her arms fell limp at her sides. Even as she started to slip into unconsciousness, the sight of the muscular man's eyes peering at her, so lifeless and without purpose, remained burned into her brain.

Eventually, even that sight faded. Her last few thoughts materialized on the blank page of her mind, erasing away almost as soon as they took recognizable shape.

"It's… It's over… Everything I've ever been though… All that… that bullshit…"

"It was all for nothing."

"Why… Why did you leave me?"

The sound of her beating heart struggling to keep her alive began to overpower her thoughts.

"It's… all your fault… Kyle…"

"It's all your… fucking fault…"

"I'll… I'll kill you for this…"

Nothing remained but the faint, distant drumming of her heart. Then, even that fell quiet until nothing remained but the sweet embrace of silence.


	15. Part 14

**SEPTEMBER 27**  
_DEPRESSION PART 2_

"KATHY! WAIT!" Kyle called out, his words falling upon the city like dead weight.

The young girl ran off ahead, almost entirely oblivious to the world around her. It was all too much like the people Kyle had seen in the first couple days of the outbreak. They all ran, their minds clouded, eyes blinded and ears deafened by absolute terror. Every single one of them eventually met their fate and it took almost as much will power as he could muster to scratch away the mark their dying screams left in his head. Kathy wasn't thinking and he knew that if he couldn't stop her, she would eventually meet that same end. Unlike the strangers he saw running in fear from days before, however, her death would be on his hands, on his incapability. Her scream would be an echo of his failure to protect her.

As if the situation weren't dire and frantic enough, weaving his way through the danger filled streets in pursuit of a frantic teenager, a couple of blocks away from the elementary school, Kyle finally realized that Veronica was not right behind him. In fact, nothing but the lifeless moans and soft shuffling of the undead filled in the background noise to his chase. The heavy footfalls of the behemoth that had cornered them in the alley and pushed Kathy over the edge did not pursue Kyle. Even without looking back, he knew that the giant creature had stayed behind with Veronica.

An intense sense of dread shot into Kyle's chest, almost as if he had been shot in the heart with a rifle. While his eyes remained locked on Kathy, his legs doing all they could to keep up with her, part of him wanted to turn back to find Veronica. However, besides the sight of Kathy fleeing in terror before him, he knew that if Veronica had lagged behind, chances were she had already been overwhelmed. He couldn't just leave Kathy in order to run back only to find out that Veronica had died. Not only could he not leave the young girl alone to face her doom, he didn't think he could stand to see Veronica like that, knowing that he could have done something, knowing that he could have made sure she was following him.

It was all Kyle could do to tear himself away from those grim thoughts as Kathy ran into the open door of a small card shop, nestled between two tall buildings. Fate had dealt him a hand and no matter which cards he decided to lay out on the table, he would lose. It all came down to just how much he chose to lose. There would be time for grief over the consequences of his actions and inactions later, but he knew that it was time to assure that he didn't lose everything. Only seconds after Kathy entered the small card shop, he followed, nearly diving through the open door.

The walls of the small collectibles shop were lined with various sorts of sports and playing cards. A counter took over the furthermost left corner of the store, the cash register having long been looted of cash. A door stood near the counter, in the right hand corner of the room, but there was nothing beyond it except heavy darkness.

As soon as Kyle spotted Kathy hunched over by the counter, attempting to cry and catch her breath at the same time, he leaned against the doorway of the store. He would have said something, voiced his immediate disdain for her choice of action, but air had decided to take a temporary vacation from his lungs. Kathy eventually fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands while letting out forced sobs. Her moderately tough, 'I can handle this' demeanor had flown out the window and she had become exactly what she was: a terrified, unstable girl.

"You know…" Kyle said, pushing away from the wall as he took in another breath. "As much as I love chasing young women through the streets of Raccoon City…" Would yelling at her make anything better? Would mentioning that they had left Veronica behind help the situation at all? He sighed and approached her. "Everything is going to be okay. I promised that I'd protect you, remember?" When all that replied to his words were helpless, fearful sobs, he added, "Do I look the type to ever let a girl down?"

Even Kyle himself didn't bother adding in a laugh for that one. It was really all he could do to avoid letting Kathy know how bad things had gotten. Again, Kathy did nothing else but cry. She had started to shake, obviously overcome by the horrors of the city. Kyle could only stand to watch for a moment before he approached her and put a hand on her shoulder in another attempt to drive away her inner discord. "Kathy, it's going to be alright."

"NO!" she yelled, shrugging off his hand. "It's NOT going to be okay! Don't you understand?" She looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. "We're all going to die! We're all going to die…"

Kyle crouched down next to her. "Come on, that's not true. We just need to-"

"It's true and you know it! That thing! That thing was… was still alive! Even after… after…" She trailed off, lowering her head, but Kyle knew what she wanted to say, that the giant creature was still alive even after getting run over by a fire truck, even after she saw it and was so sure it was dead.

"Kathy…" Kyle took the young girl's arm and stood up with her. She attempted to break free a couple of times, but eventually he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her trembling within his embrace, as if she would soon shatter into a million pieces. "We can make it through this."

Burying her face against Kyle's chest, the distraught girl fell silent. They stood there, together, for a few passing moments. Kyle began to run his hand down the back of her head. Resting his cheek against her, he closed his eyes. It was one of the few moments of reprieve from the struggle for survival that he could embrace and it seemed to help Kathy calm down. Eventually, she gently pushed away from him and looked up into his eyes. Another tear ran down her right cheek when she squeezed her eyes closed. With a grin, Kyle wiped the teardrop from her chin before it fell to the floor. She looked down briefly, then smiled at him.

A sort of bliss seemed to have wrapped itself around the two survivors and Kyle wished that he could take a picture of that moment, of her face. It was the first time that he knew she felt safe. She was so alone and hopeless when he ran across her at the precinct, sitting by herself as if she were merely waiting for her demise. Everyone she had ever known had been torn from her because of the disaster. Maybe Kyle wanted to fill that void and give his own survival some overarching purpose, letting her fill in some sort of younger sister role in his life. He knew that Kathy was a good girl and like nearly everyone else stuck in the city, didn't deserve the shit she had to go through. Alone, she was helpless and he only wanted to provide the support she needed to make it through. Looking down at her at the moment, her eyes red from crying so hard but her lips parted just enough to offer her unspoken appreciation for his kindness, he knew that he made the right decision.

Then he looked up just in time to watch as a walking corpse snatched Kathy's shoulder, and like so many other memories in his life, shattered this one into a million pieces that would forever stab and slice at his insides. The zombie must have snuck up on them while they were lost in the moment, no doubt waiting in the darkness beyond the door or behind the counter for the prime opportunity to strike. Kyle attempted to reach out and pry Kathy from the rotten, unholy creature's grasp, but two cold hands took hold of his arms and held him back.

In what short span of time that followed before Kyle could fully wrap his mind around the situation, his thoughts turned to the fire axe he held in his right hand, then to the gun he had given Kathy. However, as he watched her stumble back into the undead monster's embrace, he noticed the gun lying at her feet. Lastly, his thoughts switched to a grisly scene of zombies feasting upon the crushed and torn pieces of Veronica's body and he wished that he could apologize to her for giving Kathy the gun. He had only ever wanted Kathy to be safe.

"NO!" Kyle cried out without thinking, pulling his left arm free only to bash his elbow into the skull of whatever unnatural creature had decided to sneak up on him, putting a nice crack into the side of its head. Even that triumph, however, went short lived as Kathy's ear-piercing scream filled the room, immediately bringing him back to all those people he had heard, and seen, meet their end to the undead.

The zombie reeled back, it's foul, yellow teeth gushing with the blood of its latest victim. Kathy's shirt and arm were stained red with her own blood. She struggled to free herself to no avail, screaming in agony. The rotten creature, finished with its first mouthful of human flesh went in for a second bite, only to have its skull meet the blade of Kyle's axe. No sooner did its brain split in two did it release Kathy's body and fall lifelessly to the ground, the axe still lodged in its head.

Immediately, Kathy collapsed into Kyle, clutching at her shoulder. Wide eyed, embracing the injured girl was really all Kyle could managed to do.

"It… It won't stop bleeding…" Kathy pulled her hand back, whimpering when she saw it covered in blood.

Kyle couldn't speak. The entire situation felt so surreal. He had failed her so easily and so shortly after he had just managed to make her feel safe. How could he let that happen? How could he be so naïve and careless?

"K-Kyle...?"

It was all his fault, wasn't it? He had left Veronica behind and then let Kathy fall into the grasp of one of those bloodthirsty bastards. Without thinking, as little more than remorse ran through his mind, Kyle took off Kathy's backpack and pulled out the first aid kit. As quickly as he could, not wanting to risk sticking around if the bodies in the room decided to somehow rise once again, he bandaged up her wound. Then, he retrieved the fire axe from the corpse and the gun from the floor, holding on to Kathy so that she didn't collapse. Wasting little time thereafter, he helped her out of the store, unable to stand staying within those oppressive walls any longer.

The two began walking back towards the school in silence, Kathy clutching on to Kyle's side as they moved. She remained quiet, letting him guide them to their destination. Perhaps she already realized that they had left Veronica, as she never once asked where their other companion was, or where they were heading to.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" Kyle kept his attention ahead of him, not wishing to make any more careless mistakes on their way back to the school. He knew that he couldn't continue on without seeing what happened to Veronica. Just the thought that she could have been alive, stranded, waiting for them to come back, would eat him up inside. He needed to, at the very least, attempt to find out what happened to her.

Kathy still clutched her wound as they walked. Blood had already soaked through the bandages. "I know… It's not your fault..." She said those words, but somehow Kyle knew she didn't mean them. The strained and defeated tone in her voice told him everything that her words did not.

The two survivors found the perimeter outside the school to be, luckily, less occupied by the roaming undead than when they had first arrived. As they approached the school, they noticed that the front doors were wide open. It was difficult to say what Kyle expected to find upon returning. Perhaps the giant that had chased Veronica would have still been lurking around or the zombies would have amassed more of an army to offer opposition. Instead, there was a relatively clear path to the school's open doors and he felt certain that the undead had recently broken into the building.

Kathy remained quiet. The frightened girl had vanished, replaced by utter weakness. Kyle felt her stumble as they walked, noticed how she continued to lean more and more on him for support. Without a doubt, she was exhausted and in terrible pain, her young body and broken spirits doing little to fight against the pain of her injury. Kyle just hoped that she hadn't lost all hope, because he wasn't about to let such an accident occur a second time. While he knew he had failed her by letting her get hurt, he was thankful that she was still alive, hoping that in the end, he could make up for it all.

"She could be on the roof… or…" Kyle muttered, looking around the immediate vicinity. What remaining zombies on the street had taken notice of them and despite having his semi-automatic handgun in hand, he knew that they would have to start moving soon.

Apparently taking no notice of Kyle's words, Kathy remained in a half-lucid state, grasping onto his side for support and walking only as if she were sleep walking. Knowing he would get no input from her, he made up his mind to head into the school. If he could, he thought he'd find somewhere to keep Kathy safe and let her get some much needed rest while he searched the building for Veronica. Failing that, he knew that they would have to move on and leave any thoughts of Veronica as only bitter, regretful memories.


	16. Part 15

By the time the two survivors entered the school building, Kyle had all of half a clip of ammunition remaining in his semi-automatic handgun. He had taken no chances with carrying Kathy to the school, using what little ammo he had liberally and without much thought to how much he may need those bullets in the future. Deciding that Kathy would be unable to stand on her own, Kyle struggled to close the front doors while still carrying her along. He couldn't help but think that it was bad design to have the doors automatically stick open and even after shutting them, he had his doubts as to just how useful they'd be at keeping the undead from entering.

Kathy groaned as the front doors clicked shut and Kyle took a moment to rest, pressing his back against the doors for support. A soft darkness fell over the long entrance hallway, lined with various display cases of student artwork and trophies that no longer meant a god damn thing. Aside from their own breaths, the darkness came with silence that only served to provoke Kyle's imagination in to thinking of what undead creatures probably lurked throughout the building.  
"How you holding up, kiddo?" He grinned, unsure if she could even make out his face and ran his hand along her arm.

At first, Kathy responded in strained utterances that Kyle couldn't make out. With a deep breath, followed by a short whimper, she forced herself to say, "I'm… I'm okay. Just getting… tired."

Kyle turned his attention away from his companion and looked down the hall, waiting to spot some signs of movement to let him know that his newfound paranoia wasn't entirely unwarranted. "Think you can handle some stairs? If memory serves correct, zombies tend to fall down stairs like giant, fragile, squishy slinkies."

The young girl's right arm hung limply at her side, pressed between herself and Kyle. The blood from her shoulder had already started to wet Kyle's shirt, but he didn't want to mention anything and risk upsetting her. He felt confident that she would be alright, probably out of fear of even considering the alternative.

"Yea… I told you, I'm… I'm fine." She forced a smile and ran her right hand up Kyle's chest, clutching on to his shirt collar. "I can probably wait on the roof… if you want to look around for-"

It seemed odd that Kathy had reverted back to acting strong, even if all the conviction and sincerity felt in her voice the day before had vanished. It was almost as if she wanted to avoid thinking about the more negative aspects of their current situation, while at the same time, letting those very same worries defeat her on the inside. Kyle knew she was weak because she couldn't walk on her own and yet she continued to insist that she was fine and capable of being left alone. Maybe for her, much like Kyle, actually admitting to just how bad things had gotten would have been the final straw to completely crush her spirit. Denial had become her comfort and she apparently intended to take it with her to her grave.

"I'll fix up your shoulder a bit better when we get up there," he had stopped her from finishing her sentence, avoiding the topic of Veronica for the time being. Besides, he knew that her shoulder needed more medical attention than that quick bandaging he gave it back at the card shop. "If you don't think you can make it up the stairs, we can find-"

Kathy unintentionally cut him off, falling into a short coughing fit. "No… No. As long as you don't… you don't drop me…"

"These hands have never disappointed a woman before." He let out a weak, forced laugh, taking tighter hold of Kathy as he pushed away from the door. When Kathy didn't make much of a response, aside from resting her head against his chest, he asked, "Ah… Don't suppose you know how to get to the roof?" Truthfully, he could have probably figured it out himself, as it couldn't have more complicated than, 'go up,' but he wanted to keep her awake and conscious, at least until he found somewhere safe to let her rest.

Kathy groaned and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. "Up… er… straight and… make a left. Go up… fourth floor… outside the cafeteria's… windows…"

"Right," Kyle continued to slowly carry his injured companion down the hall, helping to support her whenever she lost her footing.

Moving through the lifeless halls that, at one point, were nearly overrun with children proved haunting enough. Kyle supposed it was good that schools had been canceled before the entire disaster became too serious, leaving the building blissfully free of the shredded remains of children. In fact, this led him to wonder why he hadn't seen zombified children walking the streets with all the other corpses, though he chose not to dwell on that thought too long, being rather thankful that he never had to lodge a hatchet into the skull of a six year old.

Rounding the corner where Kathy had previously told him to go, Kyle had to stop in order to let his mind catch up with the sight that had caught and enslaved his eyes. The shadows of the building's interior did what it could to censor the scene of absolute horror and gore, masking the severed body parts in a thin, black curtain. Still, the stench of vile decay clung to the air like a parasite; locked away to grow more pungent since Kyle had closed the front doors. While body parts covered the floor like a carpet straight out of the bowels of hell, Kyle could make out blood splattered on the walls and ceiling from the few rays of light that managed to penetrate through the windows.

It took a great deal of self control not to turn away and vomit, and Kathy obviously sensed his distress, even if she couldn't make out the brutal scene herself. "Is… is something… wrong?"

Forcing down the vomit in his throat, Kyle shook his head and replied, "No. I, ah… saw a rat." Backing away from the gore covered hallway, Kyle led the two towards the hall on the opposite side. "Little buggers freak me out ever since I was attacked by a mob of them when I was five."

Kathy groaned and let out a deep breath as Kyle's obviously false tale flew right over her head.

"Can we still make it to the cafeteria going down the other hallway?"

From what he could tell, Kathy nodded and that proved all he needed to turn his back on the nightmarish sight. Walking down towards a different flight of stairs, it dawned on Kyle that whatever had done that to those zombies (at least, he hoped they were zombies) could have still been in the building. An intense urge to turn and flee the walls of the school overcame him, causing him to stop at the base of the stairs. He couldn't stand the thought that he was putting Kathy in danger again, but at the same time, he couldn't simply turn his back on Veronica and let finding out what became of her go so easily. Perhaps a more calm and relaxed person would have chosen to leave the school in search of somewhere more safe to stay for the remainder of the day. Again, it seemed that no matter what option Kyle chose, he would end up losing.

Of course, it wasn't long thereafter that he thought, and immediately pushed away, the idea that Veronica may have been part of the inhumane mess in that hallway.

With a sigh, having made up his mind, Kyle began to help Kathy up the stairs. Nearly every step they took caused her to wince in pain and clutch at his shirt. Every now and then, she'd let out a strained whimper and eventually, Kyle knew that she had begun to cry. The young girl attempted to hide it, burying her face against his side as they moved, holding in her sobs and desires to yell out in pain. It wasn't too hard to figure that out from how tense she felt, and the way she trembled beneath his grasp.

It seemed like the stairwell would have went on for all eternity. It began to strain Kyle to see Kathy struggling so much as they continued to ascend, wishing that the asshole contractors would have decided to go with a two floor plan instead of a four floor one. Eventually, the seemingly hours that it took to ascend the stairs came to a close and the shared pain of Kathy's agony began to wane. They took a moment to rest at the top of the stairs, thankful that the entire building was not in fact swarming with creatures from hell. Still, the sight of the hallway from the first floor was fresh in Kyle's mind. He couldn't forget the fact that whatever may have created such a mess could have still been lurking within the school.

Things didn't become any better when, after beginning to walk down the fourth floor hallway, Kyle noticed that it felt as if he was walking through a large, shallow puddle. Every step he took offered either a squish or a soft splash. Even though the shadows that called the school their home made it near impossible to tell what kind of liquid he and Kathy were stepping through, he knew it was blood.

Perhaps he would have turned back at that point if it wasn't for the fact that they had already arrived at the back door of the cafeteria. A counter led on further into the room, no doubt where children used to line up to get their meals every day at lunch time. Walking down that very same line, now completely empty of both life and food, Kyle began to swear he heard something coming from further in the cafeteria.

When he stopped to listen, Kathy spoke up. "It's just… just… further ahead…"

Kyle nodded, staring into the thin veil of darkness that covered what he assumed to be the sitting area of the cafeteria. He thought he saw something move beyond that darkness, a lone shadow-person wandering the vast abysmal hell that had become the school. He whispered to his companion, "How are you feeling?"

"It… It doesn't hurt anymore…" She forced a smile.

"Do you think you could wait here while I go up ahead and make sure everything's safe?" While he didn't feel good leaving Kathy behind, he didn't intend to venture on very far without her.

The young girl nodded and he helped her lean against the counter of the lunch line.

"If something happens, I want you to yell for me, okay? I'll come running right over." Kyle grinned and gently pressed his hand against Kathy's chin, tilting her head up so that she would look at him. "I won't be long, I promise." He probably should have realized that, by this point, his promises meant nothing.

"Okay…" She returned his grin and nodded her head, pushing most of her weight against the lunch line counter..

Kyle lingered for a moment, assuring that Kathy could keep herself stable. He watched her stand there, that weak smile stuck to her face as her chest slowly puffed in and out with every inhale and exhale she took. In only a few more moments, provided nothing went terribly wrong, she would be safe and he could tend to her injury a bit more. He figured that the bite of a rotting corpse couldn't do anything good in terms of infection.

Finally able to tear himself away, Kyle continued down the lunch line, staring off towards the seating area as if he were a child once again, scoping out which table he would run to sit at. However, instead of finding the perfect table with all his friends gathered around, Kyle found something that made his heart wither and his throat go dry. His legs went numb and he felt almost as if all the air had been forcefully taken from his lungs. Words failed him completely and part of him wished that he had chosen to turn back when he had the chance so that he might have avoided plunging right into the middle of a nightmare beyond his comprehension.

Tables and chairs had been pushed against the walls around the room, obviously in an attempt to create some sort of barricade. The windows were shattered and the lifeless bodies of adults and children alike littered the blood-covered floor of the room. The end of a massacre had been frozen in time, like a twisted, demented picture, and in the center of it all stood Veronica, drenched head to toe in the blood of her latest victims.


	17. Part 16

She held her dagger in one hand and the severed head of what used to be a person in the other. Her hair sprawled over her face like a bloodied wedding veil, leaving Kyle to wonder if it was truly Veronica standing there and not some maleficent demon sent to torment him for his sins. She swayed side to side as she stood amongst the motionless bodies of the dead, in a cocktail-pool of their blood, almost as if she were quietly dancing amidst the bloodbath.

All Kyle could do was watch her form in the middle of it all, standing there as if she belonged with all the other monsters in the damned city. He temporarily forgot about Kathy, his mind far too overtaken by the sight of the hot tempered woman he had spent the last few days slowly getting to know.

When her head twitched, catching him in her sights, all the paralysis that had welled up inside his legs melted and he felt like running for his life. Of course, against all the better judgment in the world, he didn't. He hadn't come that far just to run away and, somehow, he felt certain that some of the things lurking the streets were far worse than what he currently faced. The two stared at each other in dismal silence, Veronica as rigid as a marionette hanging down from strings and Kyle as loose as a statue carved into the face of a mountain. He would have said something if his mind could tear itself away from letting confusion and turmoil dominate it.

In the end, it wasn't him who spoke first.

"They killed them all, you know." Her words were little more than soft, bitter whispers. Every single haunting breath she took dug into Kyle's body through his ears and attempted to snap his spine, echoing through the room only to meld into the already tainted walls. "Every." She began to walk towards him. "Single." Each footstep brought with it the soft splish-splash of blood. "Last." Even though her hair hung down over her eyes, clutching to her skin as if soaked in sweat, Kyle knew she had locked her eyes on him and could nearly feel himself bursting into flames from her gaze alone. "One." She stopped moving and her head tilted to the side. Nothing except her harsh, hallow breaths filled the room again before she screamed, "_SEE_!?"

The severed head fell to the ground with an all too empty thud a few feet to Kyle's right, coming to a stop only after rolling into a wall. Confusion wanted to keep him routed to that spot, but sheer terror forced him to take a step back. All of the creatures he had faced so far amounted only to monsters too surreal to paralyze and torture him with fear. Veronica, however, represented a completely new realm of terror because she was still alive and still thinking. She was still human, at least partly.

Catching himself moving in a retreat, Kyle forced his legs to stop. Maybe part of him knew that, if it came to it, he still had the fire axe and his handgun, but he would never allow that thought to enter into his conscious mind. "Veronica, I-"

Her heavy breaths turned into soft laughter that did well enough at piercing through Kyle's heart. "How _nice_ of you to _finally_ come back for me." She cocked her head back and ran her hands down the sides of her face, brushing back her wet hair. "And here I thought you just didn't give a damn about me."

"Ronnie…" Kyle muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the woman who looked so in peace and locked up by the blood that covered her body. Fear choked his voice, but he wasn't so much afraid for his life. Instead, he was afraid for Veronica, for what had become of her.

Perhaps if he wasn't so caught up in Veronica's condition, Kyle would have heard Kathy's muffled coughs and chokes from the back, the thud from her finally collapsing to the ground, her soft pleas and cries for help. Perhaps he would have noticed when she finally fell quiet.

"Aw, what's wrong _Kyle_?" Veronica asked, flipping her head forward as she outstretched her arms. "Were you expecting to find me dead where you left me, torn _limb from limb_ by the fucker you and Kathy left me with?" She laughed a solid three times before cutting herself off. "I bet you weren't expecting _this, were you_?" With a grin, her eyes locked on Kyle, she began to wave her knife back and forth in front of her face. "_That I'd be standing here, just praying you'd come back to check up on me_."

Like a young boy being scolded by his mother, Kyle began to defend himself. "Kathy… ran off. I thought you were right behind me."

"_Rrriiggghhhttt_." She took another step towards him, bringing her foot down on someone's torso without the slightest care. "You were just thinking about how good it would be to hold that bitch, _weren't you_!?" Veronica laughing and pulled her foot from the crushed torso before kicking it to the side. "_Tell me, Kyle! How was it!?How was that little whore_!?"

Kyle's mind began to race, pushing past thoughts of Veronica's madness and resentment. It was his fault, he made a stupid decision, but where others would be overcome by grief and shame, Kyle knew that he couldn't change the past. He knew that if he truly regretted his actions, the only thing he could do was attempt to fix the problems he had caused. Regret had called his soul home on several occasions in his life, but he refused to let it rule him. That was the true way to lose everything.

He began to back away from Veronica, not out of fear, but out of commitment to right what went wrong. If she decided to attack, he wanted time to react. However, even the best laid plans often go awry and he unintentionally backed right into Kathy's clutches. Without so much as a single sound, she latched onto his shoulder and pushed his head to the side, ready to take a hefty bite out of his shoulder. It was then, and only then, did he realize that he had lost Kathy the second he allowed her to be bitten.

Kyle gathered his strength and shoved the frail, weak corpse of the young girl back. Turning around to watch her lose her footing and fall to the ground, disbelief clouded his mind. He could only mutter, "Kathy…" as he watched her lifeless body struggle to stand back up.

From behind him, Veronica started laughing again. "_You let her get bit_! I can't believe this! You left _me to die_ just so you could _let her get bit_!"

All the life and innocence that had once occupied Kathy's blue eyes had faded into abysmal nothingness. Two pale, white bulbs occupied the spots where those eyes used to be, her flesh already gone pale and cold. Blood and vomit stained the entire front of her shirt. Yet, despite how everything about her had been lost to the curse of the undead, her blonde hair still came down from her head much like it had days before, having avoided becoming too dirty and mangy. It hurt knowing that with time, even her hair would catch up with the rest of her and there would be absolutely nothing left of the girl.

"What's it going to be, _Kyle_? If you don't kill her, she'll kill you." Veronica laughed again, her laughter having grown to become more of a demonic cackle as she gained amusement at Kyle's dispense.

The blood soaked woman's words fell into the air, lingering to haunt the only person's ears who could hear them. Kyle closed his eyes as Kathy began to stand. "I… I let you down. Kathy, I'm so… so sorry." He let out a drawn exhale, giving the body of his former friend just enough time to get to her feet. "Please... Forgive me."

In the next instant, Kathy's body ceased to move. Kyle's axe tore into her skull, sending the fresh corpse into a short spasm before, finally, it lost control of its limbs and fell limp to the ground.

"I know… I know you would." He turned back to Veronica, leaving Kathy to rest in his memory for the rest of his life.

Veronica swayed her head side to side, eventually rolling it around her shoulders. "_Isn't that sweet_? I sure hope you hit that before you let her die." She laughed and in an act that served only to further exemplify her madness, ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. "There's still time, Kyle. You should try her while she's still warm."

Ignoring her words, Kyle began to approach the woman slowly, determined to make sure that he could, at least, save someone. "I know I messed up…"

"_Ha. Ha. Ha._" She flashed a smile. "Fuck you."

"I'm sorry, Veronica." He paused, standing only a few feet away from her.

"_Sorry_ ain't going to cut it! You left me to _die, remember_!?" She tilted her head down, her eyes still locked on Kyle, and pointed at him with her knife. "_I think I'll see how you like being left alone against a monster_!"

"I know… I made a mistake, but you're still alive. We can still get out of this."

"_WHAT THE HELL MAKES YOU THINK THAT I'LL FORGIVE-_"

In an act that caught Veronica entirely off guard, Kyle took a few quick steps towards her, brushing past the arm she held up to point her blade at him. He wrapped his hands around her wrists, his eyes still focused on hers, despite having several stands of bloodied hair hanging over her face.

"If you really want to kill me, go ahead." She watched him let out a final breath before releasing her arms, as if readying himself to commit to a final judgment. It was odd, however, since she hadn't even put up a struggle when he took hold of her.

But fury still burned inside Veronica's rapidly beating heart. She felt cold, as if her body would start shivering at any moment. Her skin was slimy and even the faint comfort of the blood she had drenched herself in began to fade. "What… What the hell are you doing?"

Kyle lowered his head. "Trying to say I'm sorry… I always thought you could handle yourself and Kathy needed help… I should have… I should have paid more attention to you. It was stupid of me to think that you didn't need someone too."

She didn't need him! She didn't want him around. He was a jackass and she enjoyed being left on her own. It was exciting to have everything ride on her next decision, her next move. She liked not having to worry about someone else, having to deal with their stupidity and worry about their safety. She never needed anyone before! "_I don't need anyone else_!"

Kyle remained quiet, perhaps because he knew that anything else he said wouldn't help. If she didn't need anyone, then why did she become so upset when he ran off after Kathy? Why was she so upset every time she saw him give Kathy so much attention. But… Kathy was dead and… it didn't matter anymore. It hit her like a wrecking ball to the stomach. Kathy was dead.

Finally realizing that she had been breathing far too quickly, Veronica began to struggle to gain control of herself and keep the nausea welling in her gut at bay. Her body began to shake, and slowly, she lowered her dagger. Silence once again seeped into her mind and she felt the fire that ran through her veins begin to wane. It wasn't long thereafter that everything she felt, all the anger and fear, was replaced by disgust. The blood that covered her body seemed to crawl over her flesh like millions of small leeches and she wanted to scream. She wanted nothing else but to scream.

Then, in an act almost far too cheesy even for Kyle, he wrapped his arms around her. Veronica's eyes went wide and her emerald dagger slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. She had to force herself to continue to breathe, being overwhelmed by the heat Kyle's body offered. It was difficult, but she managed to say, "What… what are you doing..?"

Kyle let out a weak laugh. "Getting myself really bloody, apparently."


	18. Part 17

The two stood there for a few passing minutes. Disbelief and confusion ran rampant through Veronica's mind as she attempted to allow the recently transpired events catch up with her. The anger that had clouded her mind had subsided, but no peace replaced the void it left. For a moment, she imagined that if Kyle let go of her, she would immediately shatter. Emptiness ruled her insides like a tyrant and disgust dominated her senses. No matter what she did, there was blood. She felt the cool, slimy liquid against her flesh, smelled its pungent decay in the air, saw it splattered against the walls, and heard the occasional drop leave the body it once called home and joined with the ocean of red on the floor. Worst of all, she tasted it in her mouth, like a lemon so bitter that it began to carve into her tongue like a razor.

She wanted to claw at her body, to peel away the blood stained flesh that clung to her being like a horrible scar. She wanted to close her eyes and scream so that she might imagine a better world and forget about how blood sounds as it drips from a severed neck. She wanted to vomit so that she could taste something, anything, other than blood and have the stench of bile mask its horrid aroma. But she couldn't. Veronica was bound by Kyle's embrace and as much as she wanted to resent him for what he had done and for keeping her from doing anything to drown out the companionship of blood, she couldn't. He was the only thing standing between her and the clutches of sheer, unbelievable madness and part of her would have happily drowned herself in a sea of the blood of innocents if it meant keeping away from the illness that had temporarily taken hold of her mind.

Veronica couldn't bring herself to push Kyle away, but the longer he lingered, the more strained she became. She hated the thought of taking as much comfort in his embrace as she had, though she was sure that, in a way, Kyle found some sort of sanctuary holding her. Otherwise, he probably would have let go a lot earlier. In the end, she had to break the silence, lest she allow it to overrule her.

Without much force behind her words, as she felt strained even to speak, Veronica uttered, "Just who the hell gave you permission to touch me?"

Kyle let out a solitary laugh before pulling away. "Right. Sorry. I forgot my place. Please, forgive me, master." He tried to lighten the mood, he had tried to laugh, but it came off as completely forced. Veronica wasn't sure whether to take comfort in his attempt to keep her heart from plunging into morbidity or to hate him for being fake.

When Veronica made no reply to Kyle's comment, he shrugged and took a reluctant step back. She felt him watching her, as if expecting her to lash out in an attempt to rip out his jugular. Even though that feeling only lasted a couple of seconds, she found herself unable to stand it and lowered her head, twitching as she felt the strands of blood soaked hair that stuck to her face slowly slide off and dangle down. Apparently having reassured himself that Veronica was back to normal, Kyle turned around and began to walk towards Kathy's body, no doubt to retrieve the backpack of supplies that still clung to her as if she would ever need it again.

Watching Kyle begin to disappear into the increasingly present shadows of the cafeteria, Veronica let out a sigh and crouched down to pick up her knife. When her fingers braced the hilt of the blade, her hand began to tingle as if it were on the verge of going numb. Standing back up, knife in hand, she stared at Kyle's dark figure as he stood over Kathy's body and it all began to come back to her.

She remembered drowning. She had felt as if she were stuck in the center of the ocean, lost and dying within the surreal otherworld of its depths. Feeling had lost meaning, for even the waters of the ocean, which should have been unbearably cold, felt like nothing. Veronica was ready to fall, to forget about the world that had led her through its unfair, uncaring challenges and to have that very same world forget about her.

But her eyes were pried open, forced to undertake unbearable, bright whiteness. The hard, unforgiving embrace of steel pressed against her skin and locked her in place, preventing her from submitting to death. Struggle as she did, to the point where to felt the metal tear into her wrists, her ankles and her neck, the sweetness of death had left her alone to face her torture. She screamed and then she cried, but nothing changed. Only after what felt like hours of unbearable restraint in a purgatory of white did she begin to blame Kyle. She felt so certain that it was his fault for leaving her to that fate and with all her might, she willed nothing else but to drag him into that misery with her.

Then the blinding sheet of white faded into reality and Veronica saw him. She saw those dark, beady eyes staring at her as the behemoth held her above the ground. Her chest burned and her limbs felt numb, but rage was her battery and it guided her muscles in place of her mind. She hadn't thought of moving, hadn't even considered that she still held the knife in her hand, but Veronica found herself in motion. Like an audience member, she watched herself plunge the emerald colored blade into the giant's wrist and begin twisting until he could do nothing else but release her.

Landing on her feet, Veronica's perception of her actions grew even more distant. Her throat opened and almost immediately, she began to scream. The giant attempted to smash his bloody fist into her side, but she took a graceful step back. As soon as his arm cut through the absent air, she dashed towards him, plunging her knife into his throat. With another rabid scream, her voice cracking as her bloodlust screech tore from between her lips, she pulled the knife back towards herself, slicing up the behemoth's neck until she hit his jaw. In the next instant, the side of his arm collided with her and sent her sprawling to the ground.

She thought that she had been injured, her consciousness waiting for a surge of pain to run up her spine, but she felt nothing. Blood fell to the ground around the feet of the giant and all the nearby zombies began to hone in, drawn by the promise of finding nourishment among the casualties of Veronica and her opponent's battle. Yet, she didn't care about the walking dead. Her eyes were focused on the creature that had tormented and nearly killed her. She wanted it dead so that she could live to show Kyle what a fool he had been, to prove that she could get by on her own and make him pay for his inconsideration and selfishness. Instead of blood, it was rage and the thirst for revenge that ran through her veins.

As the giant charged her once again, Veronica evaded his attack in a feat that she herself would have never really thought that she could manage to pull off successfully. She dodged to her side, rolling on the ground only to come up right before one of the many mindless corpses in the area. Without wasting a second, she gashed its throat and kicked it back before it could latch on to her. The muscle bound giant had his own affairs to attend to, having busied himself with crushing a few zombies that had made the horrible decision to attack him.

Then it happened. As if she had never been afraid of the hulking beast, Veronica leapt onto his back as he finished crushing the skull of a rotten corpse with his bare hand. One arm around his bleeding neck, she stared wide eyed as she continuously stuck her knife into his skull, tearing through the temple and neck without any concern for how much blood began to cover her skin and clothing. At one point, the giant reached back and took hold of her shoulder, ready to tear her off as if she were nothing more than an annoying mosquito, but his grasp fell limp as she reached around and plunged her dagger into his eye, twisting and prying until he finally fell to his knees. Even after the behemoth collapsed on the ground, his skull more resembling a partially smashed pumpkin than an actual head, Veronica remained straddled on his back, hacking and stabbing away.

It was only after one of the nearby undead stepped in front of her, ready to collapse on top of her, did she actually pry herself away from mutilating the muscular behemoth and left his remains for the undead to feast upon. Her hands, arms and knife were covered in the giant's blood, but she didn't care. She had pushed herself beyond the condemnation that Kyle left her to and a mixture of faint satisfaction and intense desire for revenge continued to throb in place of her heart.

Kyle said something as he took the backpack off Kathy's corpse. Veronica could only shut her eyes and let out a lengthy sigh. Memories of her recent brush with death and severe blood lust still flooded through her mind and it took considerable effort not to fall into a reminiscent lull. Part of her wanted to mourn Kathy's death, as she found it difficult to believe that only hours prior she had been traveling with the young girl. However, she just couldn't bring herself to feel anything beyond faint regret for Kathy. Perhaps she knew all along that the young girl wouldn't make it out of the city.

"What do you say, Carrie?" Kyle slung the backpack over his shoulder as he stood up, his reference entirely lost on Veronica who had enough difficulty preventing her recollections from consuming her. "Shall we go to the roof?" Apparently, no more words needed to be said about Kathy, but Veronica knew that her death would continue to haunt Kyle, even if it did little to affect herself.

The echo of the front doors of the school flying open pried into Veronica's mind, bringing her back to the first floor. She had ran down the hall, a large mob of the living dead in close pursuit of her. She vaguely remembered the thrill she felt from being chased, how she knew that if she tripped, if she messed up, it would all be over, yet at the same time, she knew that wouldn't happen. Confidence, or possibly utter foolishness, took hold of her and when she reached the base of the stairs leading up, a sure escape from the undead, she stopped and turned around, her hand clutching on to the handle of her dagger. She wanted to enjoy the sensation of killing again, to turn the tide against her pursuers and slaughter the horde where they stood.

Perhaps such foolishness would have led to her death, but Veronica never had the chance to realize her desire to create a total zombie massacre by herself. Shortly after the mob of rotten corpses rounded the corner and she braced herself to strike, a rapid ticking noise fell in behind the zombies' shuffling and lifeless moans. From the other end of the hall, behind the small horde, a large creature leapt into the group of undead and began to tear them to pieces with a lust for carnage that could have easily matched Veronica's. She remembered watching the giant insect rip apart the bodies of the undead like butter with its massive jaws and large, flat tail.

Oblivious to the creature destroying them, the mob of zombies continued to approach Veronica. While the insect, appearing to be some horrid chimera of cockroach, ant and scorpion, made its way through the back of the horde, Veronica began to tear through the few zombies that lingered at the front. Her body became fluid in motion, cutting from one action to another almost like some magnificent, bloody dance. She hadn't considered anything, as conscious thought had long ago slipped her capabilities. Driven by pure instinct and desire to kill, she tore through the rotten dead like her insectoid counterpart. In the end, however, the unnatural creature proved far more efficient at tearing the undead apart and eventually made its way to Veronica.

Blood covered the floor and walls as if some artist decided to have a field day with red paint. Body parts and motionless corpses littered the ground. It was no sooner than Veronica dispatched the last roaming zombie than the giant bug let out some terrible screech and leapt on to her, taking her down to the floor. Its rough exoskeleton pressed against her body, nearly crushing her beneath its weight. If she were in full control of her body, perhaps she would have freaked out from having such a creature pin her to the ground. Instead, refusing to submit to the monster, she stuck her knife into its open mouth as it attempted to bite into her and struggled her way free from underneath it as it writhed in pain. Nearly slipping over the blood that covered the floor, she managed to get to her feet and dash towards the stairs, running up to the second floor in an attempt to get some distance between her and the giant insect.

Only after she reached the second floor did Veronica realize that she had left her knife stuck inside that creature. Hearing the bug ascend the stairs in pursuit, her already clouded and chaotic mind driven further into discord by the loss of her weapon, Veronica ducked into a nearby janitor's closet. Shutting the door behind her, she quickly scanned the room in order to find something to end the creature's existence. Her eyes caught glimpse of a mop sticking out from a plastic bucket and no sooner did her hands wrap around the cold, metallic shaft of the cleaning tool did she charge out of the room. The next instant passed as a mere fragment of time, the large insect preparing to pounce on its victim once again. However, it never left the ground. With a savage scream, Veronica plunged the blunt end of the mop into the monster's skull like a spear, cracking its outer shell, sending it into a near-death frenzy. She put her weight in to the mop until a satisfying crack filled the air and the only thing the large bug ever did again was twitch.

A faint sense of peace returned to Veronica as she reclaimed her knife, but in the end, it did nothing to soothe her rabid mind. In reality, the only reason she continued to the roof of the school was probably because that had been the established destination prior to everything going to hell. She continued to ascend the stairs, leaving bloody footprints in her wake, just daring another creature to emerge from the depths of the school. Perhaps, in actuality, all she really wanted was to find another creature to slaughter.

When she finally reached the fourth floor and entered the cafeteria, she let her eyes feast on the sight of absolute carnage before her. Survivors had gathered there, barricading themselves in, only to be torn apart by the very same creature that Veronica had killed. At least, that was what she imagined to be the case when she looked back on it. Still, she remembered standing in the doorway to the cafeteria, drenched in the blood of the undead, entirely overtaken the heavy sense of terror and desperation left in the wake of these people's deaths.

Men, women, children. They were all dead, killed in some of the most savage and brutal ways possible. She had started laughing until her mad cackles echoed through the entire fourth floor of the school.

Standing on the roof, underneath the darkening sky, Veronica forced her eyes shut and began to shake her head. She crossed her arms, digging her fingers into her shoulders in an attempt to keep herself from crumbling. Every breath of fresh air she took did absolutely nothing to calm her. "What… What's happening to me?"


	19. Part 18

Veronica felt a hand on her shoulder and it took her a moment to sift through, and push away, the memories of all the other creatures that had taken hold of her. "Hey, you alright?"

"What do you think?" she replied, thinking that he just asked her one of the stupidest questions she had heard in awhile. Still, the pain that throbbed inside her head began to fade and she did what she could to bring herself beyond living within the memories of her recent, insane exploits. No matter how much she wanted to run from them, however, she knew that remnants of that sensation would always linger inside her.

"I think," Kyle began, removing his hand from Veronica's shoulder, "that you look like you just waltzed out of the ninth layer of hell. Satan's going to be pretty pissed that you ran away from home, you know?"

Balling up her fist, Veronica turned around, letting faint annoyance overcome her empty pain and worry. "And just what the hell are you implying?"

Like a true trooper, Kyle responded without any hesitation. "You're a demon. But it's okay. All women are hell spawn."

"You jackass!" She could hardly believe what he was saying to her, that he had gone from serious, mourning over Kathy to jerk in a split second. "Just because women vomit every time you're around doesn't mean we're all evil." Perhaps his words only bothered her as much as they did because she didn't feel all that different from a blood thirsty demon.

"So says the chick covered in blood." The fact that he was grinning, as if nothing even happened in the last few hours, infuriated Veronica. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep herself from lodging her foot firmly between his legs. However, apparently feeling Veronica's gaze begin to sear through his flesh, Kyle lifted up his open hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm done. Sorry."

She didn't even think before muttering these next words. "Maybe you should have never even bothered to come back for me."

Surprisingly, Kyle did fall silent for a moment after that comment. Part of Veronica felt inclined to apologize; unsure as to what state she would be in if he hadn't come back. Still, it was all too easy for her to remember just how much his presence annoyed her. Sheer pride kept her lips glued closed. After all, she would have eventually managed to piece together the shattered remains of her mind, even if he didn't come back. At least, she wanted believe so.

Not really responding to her comment, as if he were pretending to ignore it entirely, Kyle forced a grin and said, "It might rain soon. I think both of us could use a nice shower."

Veronica stayed quiet, leaving Kyle to wander away in defeat upon realizing her unwillingness to speak. It surprised her that she hadn't noticed how dark it had become; leading her to wonder how many hours had passed since they had escaped from the supermarket. As Kyle said, clouds had gathered in the sky, but she couldn't tell if that meant it would rain or if it would simply get dark earlier. Either way, it appeared as if they weren't about to go anywhere else that day and Veronica hoped that it would rain. Even if it meant freezing to death afterwards, the desire to rid herself of the partially dried sin that clung her flesh continued to consume her mind.

As Veronica began to run her hands up and down over her arms, scraping away dried blood as if it were a colony of insects burrowing into her skin, Kyle walked over to the ledge of the rooftop. Watching him stare down at the streets below, Veronica couldn't help but wonder how he managed to bring her out of her brief run-in with insanity, especially since she had held such anger and resentment towards him. Even then, standing atop the school with him as her only companion, her only connection to the rest of humanity, she could barely stand to be near him, let alone tolerate whatever foolish words decided to fly from his mouth. Her spite towards Kyle had only weakened with her subsided mental collapse, but it never fully disappeared. She never thought that she'd be able to forgive him for leaving her behind, though she would probably never have admitted even to caring that much.

Seconds turned into minutes and soon an hour passed by on the rooftop of the school. For a moment, the sky dropped a short-lived mist onto the earth, and even though blood stained her clothing and hair like dye, she managed to rub off most of the horrible liquid from her skin. Soon enough, however, that brief period of grace disappeared, leaving the two survivors with nothing but the oncoming threat of night and the chilled embrace of the wind. Even taking to sitting off by herself, back against the door leading into the school, Veronica's mind found it nearly impossible to stray too far away from recent events. No matter which path she chose to go down, all her thoughts led to either more questions or answers that she flat out refused to acknowledge as possible.

Bringing her attention to Kyle, who had taken to sitting on the very edge of the rooftop in order to watch the undead on the street below, Veronica wondered why he hadn't asked her about the massacre in the cafeteria, let alone voice concern to the apparently infectious blood that had covered nearly every inch of her body. Thinking about the possibility of her succumbing to the same sort of disease that brought Kathy into the clutches of the undead only served to make Veronica feel more disgusted with herself. If that were the case, then she had already lost. It was only after that revelation did she realize that, maybe, Kyle refrained from asking because it would have been pointless. If she had killed those people, knowing that would strain his trust for her. If she were infected, realizing this would only serve to destroy her hope of making it out of the city. He was ignoring the issues out of concern that acknowledging them would have been the exact same as swallowing poison.

Every now and then, Kyle would speak, throwing out a comment that served no purpose other than acting as a very short, poorly thought out escapism. Veronica made no response to any of his words and verbalized no thoughts of her own, leaving them to rot inside her head. Words had lost their place and their relevance for the time being.

The air grew cold with the falling night. Although she wouldn't admit to it, refusing to acknowledge such disturbing feelings, a very small part of Veronica began to yearn again for even the faintest warmth provided from the liquid flowing through bodies of the damned. Luckily enough, a distant noise ceased any would be thoughts following that desire, snatching her from the brinks of unconsciousness while subsequently saving her mind from possible decay into madness. Kyle looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes widened by the sudden infiltration through their established fortress of silence.

When the noise echoed through the air once more, he met Veronica's gaze and said rather plainly, "Gunshots."

A feeling of concern followed the initial boost that the notion of finding more survivors provided. Being alone with Kyle strained her enough and for a brief moment, Veronica half wished that she was still all alone. The fact that she had never really gotten along with other people only served to make the entire situation more difficult, leaving her compelled to both seek safety in the arms of others and avoid them. In the end, it felt wrong to let the promise of finding other living humans fall to the wayside and against her natural judgment, she found herself asking, "Which direction is it coming from?"

Kyle didn't so much as answer her question as he did stand up, listen for another gunshot, and then dash across the roof. Moments after he reached the other side, he lifted an arm and called back to Veronica, "Unless the undead mastered the art of conjuring light, I think we just found ourselves more survivors!"

When she walked over, Kyle pointed off down one of the nearby streets. Veronica was amazed at how similar all the streets had started to become, especially under the encroachment of night, and she wondered if that were the street she, Kyle and Kathy had been walking down several hours ago. It wasn't too long after stepping beside Kyle, however, that Veronica caught glimpse of a group of three individuals moving through the street on an apparent course for the school. Each of them, like Kyle had alluded to, seemed to carry some source of light. One of the figures stopped and a gunshot rang out through the air.

"They're armed…" Veronica muttered, still unsure whether she should be happy over the turn of the events. She was, after all, still fairly blood soaked and if they knew anything about the risk of turning in to a zombie, she worried that they wouldn't have any second thoughts about ending her on sight. Maybe, she found herself thinking, that wouldn't have been so bad.

"Hey!" Kyle cried out and Veronica's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. "HEY! WE'RE UP HERE!" He began waving his arms in the air, as if he were signaling down a rescue plane.

Without really thinking, Veronica took hold of his shoulder, clutching on to his shirt as if she'd fall through the floor without its support. "What are you doing? We don't even know where these guys came from or-"

Kyle simply flashed a calm grin, his left arm still up in the air like a flag. "Don't be so paranoid, huh? We have an axe, a dagger and a gun with half a clip of ammo. From the sound of it, they at least have a shotgun. We could use the help." He shrugged and before turning back to continue signaling, said, "Besides, it's pretty hard to have a fun party with only two people, at least without nudity involved."

Veronica released Kyle's shoulder after staring into his eyes for a moment, overlooking his last comment. She didn't want to have to say, "Yea, they have guns and we don't. That's not a position I really want to be in." He was right. Paranoia had, in fact, started to eat at her insides, replacing the feeling of guilt, confusion and disgust that had claimed her earlier. Perhaps, in a way, it felt better to let reality trouble her as opposed to locking herself behind worries of the past.

If fate hadn't apparently done everything in its power to screw Veronica over for the past few days, she might have assumed it an instance of good luck that the group of survivors on the ground wound up approaching so close to the school. She had no clue as to whether or not the school had been their initial destination, but it became so as soon as they caught wind of Kyle's calls. If they had traveled any later, it would have probably been too dark outside for them to catch sight of him and Veronica on the rooftop. Regardless, there could be no turning back at this point. The survivors entered the school and Veronica thought that unless they ran in to one of those giant insects, they would be up on the roof in no time.

Gunshots rang out through the building beneath Kyle and Veronica, like the tick-tock of a clock as they waited. It nearly became unbearable for Veronica as she locked her eyes on the door, waiting for these people to show themselves, if only to put her nerves at rest. Her heart pounded beneath her chest in anticipation, knowing there would be questions, most likely concerning the massacre in the cafeteria. She only hoped that it would be too dark for them to make out how bloody she had become.

As the door to the roof opened and the shadowed outlines of three men finally came into view against the skyline, a faint sense of safety fell upon Veronica. She knew it was nothing more than a lie, a false pretense brought about from the presence of other people. In all honesty, she hated the feeling because it offered some semblance to hope that would, ultimately, lead nowhere. As much as she wanted to remove the ever present danger of succumbing to the hell of Raccoon City, even the idea of feeling safe frightened her simply because she couldn't afford to let her guard down.

Her distrust of others was only further reinforced when the figure in lead focused his flashlight on her and Kyle, leveling some sort of handgun in their direction. "Don't move."

Light provided from the flashlights attached to the ends of the guns that the other two men carried allowed Veronica to make out the lead figure. He stood as a heavier set man, dressed in an outfit that resembled war fatigues: camouflage pants, heavy black boots and a dark brown vest.

As if completely ignoring the man's pseudo-threat, Kyle ran his hand to the back of his neck and replied, "Man, you don't happen to have a sandwich or something, do you? I'm starving."

The other two individuals focused their light on Veronica and Kyle respectively. The man in apparent lead shut his own light off and approached the two survivors, stopping only a few feet in front of them. He gave Kyle all of three second's attention before focusing himself on Veronica. Grinning, he said, "Looks like someone's gotten in a bit of trouble, huh? I don't suppose that's your blood, is it darling?"

Suppressing the urge to both vomit and tell the man off, Veronica simply shook her head. She had known calling for these guys was a bad idea and regretted that she hadn't stopped Kyle earlier. Not only did Veronica loath the sound of the bulky man's voice, but no one who would freely aim their guns around as they were could have been too friendly.

Of course, as if the impression these men left on Veronica the very moment they came on to the roof seemed completely unwarranted, Kyle continued to pester the man about food. "So… Ah, about that sandwich…" Did he not care at all about what danger they could have been in?

"Right," the large man continued to eye Veronica, "sandwiches." With a hefty laugh, he took a step back. "We have plenty of food at our base of operations just up the street. It's pretty lucky we came down this way tonight, huh boys?" he called back to the other two who continued to stand by the door.

One replied, his voice making Veronica's skin crawl. "Yea, boss. Real lucky!"

"I'll say," Kyle muttered. "I've been dying for a sandwich."

Veronica leaned towards him, whispering, "I don't like this…"

Her companion began to respond, no doubt attempting to quell her concerns, but the large man cut him off. "Now, now. Sharing secrets isn't all too nice, is it?"

"Base of operations?" Veronica immediately asked, attempting to draw the conversation to another path. "Just who are you?" Honestly, she didn't particularly care all that much. It wasn't as if their identities mattered in the least bit.

"Right, we forgot to introduce ourselves!" The man laughed. "We're the proud few who got hired by Umbrella to save sorry saps like yourself. My name's Butch and back there with the rifle is Roger. The other one's Jacques. I don't think he speaks much English, but he follows orders well enough." Butch snickered and placed his handgun back in the holster at his hip. "And in the end, that's all I really care about."

"Not to be rude," Kyle spoke up, still amazing Veronica that he hadn't caught on to the same vibe about these men as she had. "Can we get the hell out of here? I'm getting sick of standing on this roof and I really do need that sandwich, preferably with a giant cherry slushie, but water will do just fine."

Veronica lowered and shook her head as Butch spoke. "Sure, sure. We'll take nice care of you. Both of you." He turned to his followers. "You two, take point. I'll have the pleasure of escorting our guests."

As the group began to move, Roger and Jacques leading back into the school building, Kyle turned to Veronica. "Worried?"

She took a moment to think whether or not she wanted to respond. In the end, silence seemed much better than admitting her concern to Kyle.

"Don't worry." Perhaps she didn't need to speak to get him to understand after all. "Everything will be alright. I promise."

Just then, Butch called out to them. "Hey! Come on! Or were you planning on staying behind?"

Somehow, Veronica knew that they really didn't have that choice.


	20. Part 19

"You know," Kyle spoke out as the mercenary Jacques finished decapitating a zombie with his shotgun. "It's nice to actually be able to take an evening stroll without having to worry about the undead feasting on my brains."

While Kyle relied on subtle denial to keep his nerves at bay, Veronica held on to some astonishment at how efficient the mercenaries were at traveling through the city. Even having lived in Raccoon City for several years, she felt sure that after they passed through the first few blocks, she would have been completely and utterly lost. Everything took on the same decayed, depressing look and the severe lack of lighting didn't make matters any better. If anything, they were good at their job, which included dispatching the undead just as much as it did traveling through generally unknown territory.

"You know what else?" Of course, Kyle spoke again. While the other mercenaries, or at least Jacques and Roger, busied themselves with clearing paths through the zombies, he stood towards the rear with Veronica, his axe slung over his shoulder and his handgun firmly nestled between his belt and his jeans. "These bastards ain't so scary when you have nice combat shotgun at your disposal. Of course, assault rifles aren't bad either." He paused, or rather, was interrupted by gunfire. "Hey, Roger! What kind of rifle is that, anyways?"

After getting over the joy of his newest headshot, Roger called back, "This? My baby? Oh boy, this beaut's a lovely M4A1 carbine. I can't even tell you the amount of assholes I've nearly decapitated with this thing."

"Fully automatic?"

"What? You think I'm out here playing Barbie's Grand Adventure or some lame ass shit like that? Of course it has fully automatic capabilities!"

"Would you two stop talking like we're in the middle of god damn Disney World?" Butch interrupted Kyle's and Roger's overly friendly gun-talk. "And you," he specifically addressed Kyle. "Do you ever shut the hell up?"

As hard as it was, Veronica fought the immense urge to yell out, "No! He never shuts the fuck up."

"Only with a ball gag and a beautiful woman dressed in leather standing over me," Kyle laughed. "But I don't think you have either of those. Unless you're holding out on me…"

Veronica spent the entire trip in complete silence. The feeling of unease the mercenaries gave her never went away. Even during the walk to their base, she couldn't help but to be more concerned about them as opposed to the walking corpses that roamed within the shadows. At the same time, however, she felt partially inclined to agree with Kyle. It was nice being able to walk down the street without constantly fearing that a horde of zombies would attack. Not only did the mercenaries have the firepower to repel any undead force, they navigated the streets in a similar fashion as to how Veronica had led Kyle and Kathy earlier in the day. For the most part, they avoided unneeded conflict. Still, she felt inclined to believe that if Roger were the one in charge, they would have gone on a zombie-killing spree. She eventually gave up counting how much ammo he wasted on targets too far away to be of any real concern to the group.

The inevitable lull that her mind fell into as their travels continued came to a halt when Butch proudly declared, "Here we are, home sweet home!"

Another gunshot rang out as Roger finished off a zombie down the street. Jacques, on the other hand, took post at the side of the door leading into the fortified jewelry shop, nestled perfectly between two neighboring buildings. The front windows had been boarded up, without a doubt as a necessary defensive precaution against the undead.

"What a fitting place for a bunch of guns-for-hire to hold up," Kyle said, stretching out his arms. "I suppose you've already raided all the valuables, huh?"

Butch ignored Kyle's question in much the same manner as he had ignored Kyle since the halfway point of their journey. The bulky mercenary approached the door of the shop, knocked on it three times and then yelled, "Dane, time to open up buddy. We have company."

A series of locks coming undone followed before the door opened. A man wearing much the same attire as the other three mercenaries stood in the doorway for a brief moment before stepping off to the side and out of sight. Roger, apparently having finished firing off at distant, roaming shadows, took post at the opposite side of the door as Jacques. Butch then stepped to the side, turned to Veronica and gestured for her to head inside. "Ladies first, darling."

Veronica threw Kyle a quick glance, not quite sure how she wanted to handle the situation. He merely shrugged his shoulders and offered her a comforting grin. Much like before, she felt that, in the end, she never really had a choice in the situation. Taking a deep breath, Veronica walked to the door of the small shop, looked at Butch and then stepped inside. He immediately followed behind her, turning around only to say, "You can kill the annoying prick."

Veronica found herself immediately turning around, just in time to watch Butch close the door behind him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just having some fun, sweetheart." Butch crossed his arms, a grin crossing his fat-laden face.

From outside, Veronica heard Kyle's muffled voice yell out, "I assume this means there's no sandwich for Kyle…"

"You son of a bitch!" She knew it. She fucking knew something like that would happen and she hated herself for not acting on her feelings before.

Butch took a step towards her. "Well now. Ain't you a feisty one?"

"Shut your mouth, boy!" Roger commanded from the other side of the door.

"Can't we all just, you know, play nice?" Kyle replied, most likely in some sort of odd attempt to stall a bullet speeding through his skull.

"Now now, don't look at me like that, darling," Butch said, taking another step towards her. "It's not all that bad, I promise. Here, why don't we just get you out of those dirty clothes? We have a shower in the back…"

It all came down to Veronica needing to think quickly if she wanted to save Kyle's life. There was no time for regret, only for action. Pushing aside her anger and resentment towards these people who had attempted to offer her some semblance of hope, she forced herself to adopt a more submissive, pleading role. "You're… You're going to kill both of us, aren't you?"

"Shucks, you figured me out."

"Can you… Can you just wait until," she wanted to cut her tongue out for having to say these words, "we're finished? I want to… I want to die next to my husband… please. I'll do anything."

Butch laughed, shaking his head in apparent amusement. "Whatever floats your boat, honey." Before turning around to open the door, he told the fourth mercenary to take away Veronica's knife. Following that, he opened the door and called out, "Change of plans, boys. Just disarm the bastard and wait until I give you the word."

After a short, moderately surprised laugh, Kyle said, "Oh, please. Don't take away my heavy axe and my half-empty gun. Whatever will I do without them?"

Butch, once again, shut the door and approached Veronica, who had been stripped of her only means of defense. "Why don't we head to the back and see about getting you cleaned up, huh?"

Lowering her head, she fought the urge to bite into her lip and instead offered a meager, "Sure," as she walked with Butch.

From what she could tell on her short walk to the back room, several containers of what she assumed to be supplies were scattered around the main room of the store. All of the display cases were shattered, having been raided days ago when the disaster first occurred. She supposed that whatever thieves had gotten their hands on the jewelry were already laying dead somewhere. Of course, the back room of the store didn't seem to be in much better condition. The mercenaries had turned it into a resting quarter of sorts, with four cots standing at each corner of the room. A table stood in the middle with various kinds of ammunition scattered over the top.

Butch shut the door behind them and walked past Veronica to the table where he took a seat in one of the four folding chairs that stood around the table. As he looked her over, Veronica couldn't help but to feel naked without her knife at her side. So much did the loss of her favored weapon disturb her that she began to feel anxious and nervous, her heart beginning its usual ritual of drum play behind her chest.

The large man licked his lips as his eyes feasted on Veronica. "I'm sure you're quite eager to get out of those clothes, aren't you?"

Looking off to the side, Veronica ran her hands down to her waist. Honestly, she had been eager to lose her clothing for hours. "Why… are you doing this?"

The mercenary laughed and waited until only awkward, heavy silence fell between the two of them. It took a considerably amount of willpower for Veronica to force herself to loosen her pants and let them fall to the floor. Of course, it was only then that he spoke, standing up from his seat. "You honestly think that Umbrella can just pick up a few random assholes like me, pay us, hand us weapons and expect us to follow their orders? Honey, this is hell and I'm just a patron enjoying all that I can before some ugly bastard tears me a new one."

"You're… sick…" she muttered, hating how cold she felt.

"Aren't we all?" He began to walk towards her. "You know what? I think you're just as sick as I am." He reached out and took hold of Veronica's shirt with both hands. "Somewhere, deep down inside, I'm sure you're just begging for this."

It was at that very moment, as the large man attempted to tear Kyle's bloody fleece from Veronica's body did she realize that everything had just become a horribly sick and twisted joke on God's part. It wasn't fair, none of it was. She felt cold and almost as if no amount of air she brought into her lungs would stop them from collapsing. Her hands began to shake and she would have felt nothing but anger towards the asshole standing before her if the cold that had embraced her body hadn't started to burn her. She desperately wanted warmth.

He was right. She was sick.

Not even thinking, Veronica stuck her thumb and index finger into Butch's eyes, cramming her other hand into his mouth as soon as he attempt to scream in pain. Sure, he bit down on her fingers as she made him gag, but pain was some of her least concern. Only after tearing apart the insides of his eye sockets with her fingers, did she remove her hand and take his gun from his holster. Somehow, even though conscious thought failed her, she realized that a gunshot would alert the other mercenaries. Instead of shooting him, she pistol-whipped Butch in the forehead once, causing him to stagger back. Hooking her hand inside his mouth, as if she were noodling for catfish, she followed the large man as he staggered, cracking him over the skull a couple more times with his gun. She remove her now bloodied hand from his mouth as his body fell to the ground, only to kneel at his side and continue bashing in his skull with the gun until he finally stopped breathing.

Only after Butch's death did some semblance to conscious thought return to Veronica. Her mind quickly attempted to assess the situation as she searched the large mercenary's body for other weapons and ammunition. Only after securing several rounds of extra ammunition for his gun did she begin searching through the room for new clothing. In actuality, the bloodied fleece had started to irritate her too much until she found that she could do nothing else but discard it. After rummaging through a duffle bag underneath one of the cots, Veronica found herself a pair of ill-fitting cargo pants and a T-shirt.

She had little time to relish in the comfort of wearing relatively clean clothes as there were still three other mercenaries waiting to be dealt with. One wrong move and Veronica knew that Kyle would be shot and she had no intentions of letting that happen. As much as he annoyed her, as much of a jackass he had been, she knew that she wouldn't be able to live with the regret if she let him die due to carelessness. If, in the end, he was killed, then fine, but she wasn't about to simply let that happen.

Pulling the door open, Veronica stood behind it, waiting for the other mercenary to come and investigate. She heard him stand up and begin to approach the back room, asking, "Butch? You done already?"

Like an idiot, he walked into the room, though Veronica couldn't really think of what alternative action he could have done instead. It only took a moment for her to whack him upside the head with Butch's gun, causing him to stumble. Wasting little time, she stepped up against him, wrapped one hand around his throat and shoved the barrel of her gun into his mouth.

She couldn't really help herself but to whisper in his ear, "Yea. He's finished. Now let me take care of you."

Veronica guided the man towards the front of the shop, spotting her prized dagger lying on the floor like a discarded piece of trash. Shortly after retrieving it, she took a moment to stare into the man's wide eyes as she held the tip of the emerald colored blade against his throat. He attempted to scream, instead falling into a fit of gagging. Then it was over and he fell to the ground, clutching the hole in his throat. Blood once again dripped down Veronica's blade and in some odd way, she felt at peace watching the small red droplets splash against the floor.

After wiping her dagger off on the recently deceased mercenary, since the cleanliness of her weapon was at apparent utmost importance, she returned it to its sheath and took a second handgun from the body. Her heart pounded against her chest like a time bomb ready to explode as she pressed her ear against the front door of the shop, listening to the men outside. It had come down to the final act and at this point, she wanted nothing else but to see the remaining two mercenaries lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood.

"You two want to play charades, or something?" Kyle asked, apparently having given up hope of finding a way out of the situation himself.

Roger spoke out, obviously growing impatient with Kyle. "Why don't you just shut up for a few seconds before I blow your goddamn head off?"

"Maybe I would shut up if you weren't making me uncomfortable by aiming that thing at me. I mean, sheesh, we've only known each other for a few hours and you're already whipping it out? How tacky."

That was really all Veronica needed to know before she began to unlock the door. Roger began to say something along the lines of, "Looks like the boss is finished," but Veronica stepped out of the doorway and wasted no time in leveling both her newly acquired handguns at the heads of the final two mercenaries. Neither one of them had time to utter a single curse before she pulled the trigger and gave them the eternal rest that she knew they didn't deserve.

Kyle lowered his arms, having been apparently holding them up since Veronica left him outside. He then ran in front of her, noticing her change of clothes. "Nice wardrobe change, Ronnie. It sure beats that whole 'Psychotic, blood covered mass murderer' look you had going on for awhile." It was almost as if she hadn't just saved him from inevitable death.

Veronica lowered her guns, taking in deep breaths as her consciousness began to work its way back into her mind. Slowly but surely, her heart returned to its normal pace. Still, her body continued to quiver and she felt as if she would shatter at any given moment. "We…" She really had to force herself to speak. "We really need to do something about the bodies."

"Right, right." Kyle nodded, obviously realizing that the threat of the dead mercenaries rising as zombies or acting as zombie bait proved far too dangerous. "Here, you've done enough. I'll take care of the clean up."

Veronica was in no position to argue, retreating inside to allow her body to calm down. For a while, she watched Kyle stockpile the mercenaries' weapons before moving all of the bodies into the back room. After that, she knew that he started to decapitate them, hearing the sounds his axe made at it chopped through their necks and hit the floor. In a way, she was happy that he took care of that, but a small, disturbing part of her wished that she could have done it herself, if only to watch their bodies bleed more.

Once Kyle finished, he removed what useful items he could find from the back room and shut the door. The mercenaries would never stand up again, but neither him nor Veronica wanted to be reminded of the massacre they had been forced to be involved in.

"At least we have weapons now, huh?" Kyle stood in front of the store's counter where he had lined up the weapons and ammunition he found laying around. "So aside from that whole 'almost dying' thing, this turned out pretty well."

Veronica sat at the side of the room, her back against the wall, and examined the handguns she had retrieved from Butch and Dane. She wondered for a moment if Kyle even considered the fact that for the first time in her life, she had killed living people. Then it worried her how little she actually cared about committing such an act, almost as if she didn't even think of them as people to begin with. Or maybe she simply stopped caring about shedding blood.

In the end, her new handguns kept her mind from slipping too far into the bounds of the madness that infected her mindf. One of the handguns, a bit smaller and more lightweight than the other, had a picture of a rose carved into the wood-like grip of the gun. The other gun boasted a solid blue coloring, the likes of which did well to contrast with the emerald green of Veronica's knife. In an odd way, she found herself overly fond of her new weapons. Perhaps it was the exhaustion that had seeped into her body, but she felt compelled to give them names. She named the lightweight gun, which she recognized as a 9mm handgun, Red Rose. The other, which Kyle revealed to her as a .45 caliber handgun, she called Cobalt.

Kyle laid down on one of the two cots he had dragged out from the other room. "Today kind of sucked, huh?"

Veronica lowered her head, her new handguns resting on her lap.

Her companion let out a short laugh. "You know, as stupid as this sounds… I'm kind of happy that Kathy's not here anymore." He paused for a rather lengthy moment before finally adding, "She doesn't have to go through this bullshit anymore."

Veronica could have said something, anything, as Kyle left her the perfect opportunity to do so, but she didn't. She couldn't. So much had happened and it was difficult enough for her to get over herself, let alone deal with Kyle's worries. Perhaps he realized that, saying nothing more for the rest of that night. Silence once again became Veronica's only true companion and while its bittersweet embrace took away thoughts about Kyle, it left her utterly alone with her own thoughts.

In the end, she wasn't sure as to which frightened her more.


	21. Part 20

**SEPTEMBER 28**  
_AGGRESSION_

Cold made her its slave, binding her body to a chair of ice. If she could have felt her limbs, perhaps she would have struggled to break free. However, somehow she knew that even if she could bring herself to fight against the unnatural, cruel forces that held her, she wouldn't be able to break through her chains.

She felt naked, helpless and alone. Her slowed heart did what it could to keep blood pumping through her body, the sound of it struggling to maintain a constant beat traveling up her neck into her head where it took the place of the slow tick-tock of a clock. Every now and then, in the vast ocean of pure, relentless white that covered her eyes, she would see the figure of Butch simply staring down at her with nothing but dark desire behind his eyes. Even when she couldn't see him, however, she felt the eyes of others pressing against her skin and soon enough, nothing but paranoia and anxiety ran throughout her body.

As the white veil began to fade, the figure of a young man came into view in front of her. He sat on an invisible chair, apparently frozen as solid as herself. Still, his eyes moved in sharp contrast to his statuesque body, watching over her in the same twisted way that Butch had looked at her earlier. An intense sickness began to well in her stomach until she had to force her eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the plain, absolute terror that overpowered her senses.

Someone spoke, but Veronica was far too busy throwing up to make sense of the words.

"Good morning, Ronnie-girl." Kyle shook Veronica awake, unintentionally saving her dream-self from choking to death on vomit. She hadn't even fully came back into consciousness, let alone make out that the crouched figure before her was her companion and not some sort of demon, before he added, "From way you were squirming around, I assume you were dreaming about me."

Veronica had to blink a couple of times, to shove away the sleep from her eyes, before everything that had happened the night before came back to her. Looking up at Kyle, not only did her back feel stiff from having fallen asleep in an upright position against the wall of the jewelry shop, but she felt increasingly ill and disgusted. A faint chill still clung to her flesh like blood from the day before. "I… I need to…" She began to breathe heavily, pressing her hands against the floor to ready herself to stand up. "I need to… wash my hair…" She could smell the dried blood that still stuck to her like a terrible, haunting memory and every inhale made her want to vomit.

It seemed to take Kyle a moment to grasp what was going on, possibly taken back by the moderate randomness of Veronica's concern over her hair. "I think there's a bathroom in the back, but you'll have to-"

Without a doubt, he was about to say, "You'll have to go through the room where we stashed the bodies," but Veronica had already stood up before he could finish. She wasted very little time in dashing to the door leading into the back room where she had ended Butch's life. Nothing else mattered except getting herself clean. She could feel the blood start to eat into her skull and the smell begin to tear apart her lungs like mustard gas. It was a desire to get warm, to forget about the ways in which the city had started to warp her.

The far right corner of the back room looked more like the scene of multiple, brutal murders than anything else. Veronica only gave the sight of the mercenaries' desecrated bodies a few seconds of attention before scanning the room for another doorway. Finding one of the left side of the room, which she had apparently failed to notice the night before, she quickly ran over to it, covering her mouth as the need to throw up steadily increased. Once inside the small bathroom, she rushed over the sink and turned the hot water on full blast. Within a few seconds of sputtering, water shot from the faucet and she immediately ducked her head into the sink, running her wet fingers through her hair in a desperate attempt to remove the blood dye from her head.

Minutes later, the previously white sink had adopted a light red tint. Veronica squeezed some of the excess water from her hair before brushing it back with her fingers. Looking up in the mirror just above the sink, she found her own tired, stressed eyes staring back at her. For a moment, she felt inclined to break the mirror so that the ugly figure of sick desperation would shatter and disappear, but she didn't, instead opting to let out a drawn exhale and turn to leave the room. She figured that she really didn't need to jinx herself with any more bad luck than she already had.

"I definitely dig the whole wet look," Kyle said as Veronica walked back into the front room of the small store. He was sitting on the cot he slept on, eating one of the energy bars that had been stored in the backpack. "For breakfast, we have a wonderful selection of warm, bottled water," he reached into the open bag on the floor between his feet and pulled out a full bottle of water, "dirt flavored energy bars for people who hate their taste buds and canned mystery meat, for people who hate their stomachs." He laughed, shoving the remainder of his energy bar into his mouth.

"Just throw me the water." Honestly, Veronica couldn't even fathom eating at that moment, afraid that not two seconds would pass before she threw it back up.

After Kyle tossed her the bottle of water, Veronica sat down on the second cot. As she began to chug the water, almost as if she hadn't drank anything in the past three days, Kyle asked, "So, how are you holding up? You looked kind of pale when you woke up."

Veronica was thrown off by Kyle's sudden, rather blatant exhibition of concern, so much so that she continued to drink in an attempt to stall before she had to come up with some sort of response. However, when it came down to it, all she really said was, "Yea, I'm fine." She had no desire to clue him in on everything that had been bothering her, let alone her physical state. As long as she felt up to the task of moving and defending herself, she really saw no point in saying otherwise.

"Good. I don't want to see you passing out when we're surrounded by hundreds of zombies. It's really hard to pull off an epic battle against the forces of evil all alone." Kyle got to his feet after zipping up the backpack and approached the counter where he had placed all of the available guns. While looking them over, he asked, "Any idea where we're heading today?"

Drinking the rest of the water, failing to consider if Kyle wanted any, Veronica thought for a moment about their next move. From last night's experience, it seemed as if she couldn't even rely on a rescue operation. Umbrella's mercenaries seemed to be just as moral as a bunch of prison inmates and she had no intentions of resting her idea of rescue in their hands. "The highway would be the quickest, most direct way out, I think."

Kyle picked up Jacques' rifle, checking the gun in a way that left Veronica completely in the dark. She could handle handguns relatively easy enough and probably shotguns if she had to, but anything beyond those firearms were a bit above her. "Right, good thinking. Agerd Street would take us pretty close to a highway, and since we're packing serious heat now, I don't even think steroid abusing, giant freaks of nature could stand in our way."

It was all too obvious that Kyle had much better bearings as to their location than Veronica. It didn't help that she had no idea as to the direction in which the mercenaries took her and Kyle the night before. Silence once again fell between the two survivors, as Veronica really didn't have much further to add to the conversation. Kyle continued to check over the mercenaries' guns before throwing a belt with two handgun holsters next to Veronica.

"I put that together this morning." He smiled, as if honestly expecting a "Thank you" from Veronica. "I noticed you picked up those handguns and figured you could use something better than pockets to carry them in. I think your knife sheath should fit on that belt too." He walked back to the counter and gestured towards a small pile of ammunition. "Here's what I could find for your guns, as well as a vest with pockets for you to keep the bullets in."

Veronica didn't really move from her spot, watching as Kyle put on one of the mercenary's vests. Unlike the one that he had pulled out for her, his vest seemed to fit him perfectly. "Since you're loading up with those handguns, I'll take care of the heavy firepower." He turned around, the rifle slung over his shoulder and flashed Veronica a wide smile. "Alright, fine. I'll be honest. Guns like these give me a raging hard on."

She didn't even really think before the next words came from her lips, "I can tell." Funny enough, Kyle actually looked down towards his crotch, most likely just playing into Veronica's sarcastic attempt to tease him.

Over the course of the next few minutes, Kyle and Veronica outfitted themselves with the mercenaries' supplies. Veronica attached her knife sheath to her new belt, slipping both her handguns into their holsters. She then equipped the mercenary vest, filling several of the pockets with small boxes of addition ammunition, stuffing the remainder into the pockets of her cargo pants. Even if she felt that her new equipment weighed her down, she knew that Kyle had it worse. He slung the rifle over his back, carrying the shotgun like a soldier ready to march into the depths of battle. He did what he could to fit ammunition into his pockets, but in the end, he simply didn't have enough room for it all and had to leave some behind, a fact that Veronica could tell bothered him, if only because it meant he would get to fire his new guns fewer times.

"Ready?" Kyle asked, standing in front of the door to the store.

Veronica had decided to take the backpack, now stuffed to the brim with mercenary rations, considering Kyle's load out had to have been heavier than her own. She merely nodded in response to his question, bracing herself to reenter the maze of undead, unnatural chaos of Raccoon City. In the end, she was surprised to find that there wasn't an army of undead waiting outside of the jewelry shop for her and Kyle. Instead, they found several small groups of zombies roaming the street and several crows perched on nearby rooftop ledges, like an audience waiting to be entertained by a blood bath. Without giving the undead any time to take notice and begin to hone in on them, the two survivors took off and began on their journey to the highway.

As the all too familiar cacophony of mindless moans filled the air once again, Veronica found it disturbing how accustomed she had become to the entire ordeal. It didn't take long at all for her to fall back into the familiar, established lull of traveling through Raccoon City's streets, taking side paths and alleys in order to avoid having to confront masses of zombies. The fear and unease that the undead invoked never fully dissipated. Instead, it had become a familiar companion in Veronica's travels. That alone proved enough for her to once again curse the way fate seemed to toy with her, knowing that no one should ever have to get used to corpses roaming the earth.

For a while, she wondered how Kyle was faring with everything. Obviously, he never really showed much concern or fear against the monsters that roamed the city. In fact, the only time she had seen him really distressed was when they were confronted with the skinless, long tongued creature in the fire station and back in the school cafeteria. Even while walking down Agerd Street, he continued to offer pointless, random comments, the likes of which she would have expected someone to say if they were taking a casual stroll through a park and not walking through a city infested with zombies.

Even though Veronica ignored nearly everything Kyle said, he continued to speak and in an odd way, she was thankful that he did. His words, as annoyingly pointless as they were, kept her somewhat bound to reality and prevented her from slipping too far into her usual, depressing thoughts. However, what thoughts she had found herself batting around inside her head came to a halt as the group came across a rather large horde of undead blocking off their direct route down the street.

Of course, some of the zombies in the horde took notice of the fresh meat that had come their way and began to advance towards the two survivors. Kyle already began to back away, uttering, "I think we should go that way instead. It's the more scenic route…" He gestured off towards the right, through an alley that led to the next street over.

It amazed Veronica how the mass of mindless, undead bodies seemed to act as one whole unit. Even though, at first, only a few of the zombies had taken notice of her and Kyle, it wasn't long before the entire horde began to approach them, leaving them no other choice but to veer off course in order to preserve their lives. Still, a very small part of Veronica craved to suppress her instinct of self preservation and dive into the group of zombies, slaughtering as many as she could before they overwhelmed her, if only to take out a chunk of the monsters that roamed the city and prove that she wouldn't take any of fate's twisted bullshit.

In the end, she pushed away that thought almost as soon as it entered her mind, entirely unwilling to even harbor the idea that she was capable of such desire.

Following their forced detour, a couple of hours of travel passed, most of which was spent going out of the way to avoid unnecessary conflict. Of course, they did end up having to spend some ammunition in order to clear safe pathways, but ultimately they did what they could to avoid putting their lives in danger, even going as far as to travel several blocks in the opposite direction when they heard dog barks or the sound of dog nails ticking against the pavement. Even though they had new weapons, both of them realized that they still couldn't afford to get careless. Better firepower would only buy them so much luck against the wicked forces that plotted against them.

Perhaps if she hadn't fell into a mental lull, driven solely by survival instincts, Veronica would have noticed a lack of large numbers of undead roaming the street at one point. Awhile after she and Kyle ran into the large wall of rotten corpses blocking their path, it seemed almost as if the zombie population thinned out. One of them may have made mention of the occurrence at some point, but as they passed by a three story apartment building at the corner of one of the many lifeless streets of the city, a scream froze them in their tracks.

"A girl…" Kyle said, turning his attention to the apartment building. The front door had been broken in and hung from only one hinge.

Instantly, Veronica wanted to berate him for simply wanting to find another girl to play 'strong, protective man' with, like he had done with Kathy, but somehow she knew that wasn't the case. Still, she couldn't help but feel as if she would be dragged into unnecessary danger due to Kyle. She found herself asking if she really cared enough about going to check on a possible survivor to put her own life at risk.

For a brief moment, Kyle fell quiet before turning his attention to Veronica. He shook his head slowly, speaking as if his words ate his heart. "We can't just walk away."

Maybe remorse over Kathy's death still weighed him down, pushing him to attempt to make up for it by preventing others from meeting her same fate. Still, even though Veronica knew it was a terrible idea, that small piece of her that craved an adrenaline rush, that craved bloodshed, made her inclined to agree with Kyle that they should investigate the scream, using concern for others solely as a cover up for her own twisted desires.

In the end, she fooled even herself when she agreed to go inside with him, thinking that she couldn't let the scream go unanswered when all she really wanted to do was cover her knife with blood again. "Fine, but if you leave me behind again…"

"I won't, promise." He grinned, nodding his head as if to reassure her of his newfound, unbreakable loyalty.

Before Veronica could have any second thoughts, let alone realize that the blood lust she found so disturbing was actually driving her to go inside, the two survivors approached the open door to the building. Beyond the doorway stood only a small section a sunlight surrounded by the shadows of the inside of the building, inviting them inside to play a hellish game of hide and go seek.


	22. Part 21

**Author's Note:** Due to *outstanding* support from **cjjs** and **Ciel Noir **I have decided to bring the story here up to date with the story on my Deviant Art page. Those two have been great in providing some much needed feedback and I urge everyone who enjoys my work to give some of their stories proper attention. Thanks again, you two.

Of course, that's not to say they're the only one's who have influenced my decision. Honestly, I thank everyone who has been genuinely interested in my work.

By all means, if you enjoy my writing, take a look at my Deviant Art page in the future and continue to give me support on my endeavor to become a published writer.

Thank you all again. Cheers!

* * *

Stepping through the broken, front door of the apartment building, standing in the only patch of light at the base of a stairwell leading up, it became all too apparent that the structure was far different than any of the others Veronica had entered over the course of the last few days. The walls held none of the false securities offered by the precinct, nor the feeling of abandonment and loss held by the fire station. The stagnant air lacked the livelihood of decay that thrived in the air of the supermarket. The walls and floors were clean of blood, a deception that undoubtedly attempted to hide the terrors that had unfolded within the bounds of the building. Even the school had enough courtesy to display its inner nightmares in all their glory. The apartment building held none of that, claiming only emptiness as its deceitful mistress. Veronica knew that peace, as it often had before, would ultimately end up leading to chaos.

"Talk about chills, huh?" Kyle gave Veronica a light nudge. Apparently, he had picked up on the same bad vibe that crawled under Veronica's skin and wrapped itself around her spine.

It seemed odd that he hadn't dashed up the stairs in a daring attempt to rescue the woman that had screamed. Maybe he felt afraid and needed some reassurance on Veronica's part that they weren't making a mistake. Of course, she offered him none, entirely unsure as to why she had followed him inside in the first place. It was a fool's venture. Still, before she could dwell on that thought too long, she found herself replying, "Suck it up. This was your idea."

Kyle offered a fleeting grin and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, okay. Let no man stand before the all mighty, Brace and Fearless Ronnie. She'll turn your manhood into a chew toy." Of course, as if the only thing standing between him and turning into a frightened, sobbing child was the sound of his voice, he simply had to go on to add, "Which, in retrospect, sounds kind of hot."

The lack of laughter on Kyle's part following his ungodly inappropriate comment stayed Veronica from pounding him into the ground like the worm he so often seemed to present himself as. She could practically hear the fear conquering his throat through the sound of his voice. Instead of expressing her anger in terms of delivering pain, Veronica groaned and began to walk towards the stairs. "Why don't you just shut up and watch my back?"

With an all too forced laugh, he replied, "That shouldn't be too hard."

Veronica wanted to say, "I hate you. I hate you, so much," but she didn't, choosing instead to end that conversation right there and then.

Everything within the apartment building seemed plagued with age, from the cracked tiles that covered the floor of the small walk-in area that lead to the base of the stairs to the small series of tarnished mailboxes within the left hand wall. Several letters and discarded envelopes laid scattered on the floor, several of the small doors to various mailboxes hanging open as if a hurricane had recently blown in and caused havoc. Walking up the stairs, into the darkness that apparently ran through the building like blood through veins, Veronica imagined that the walls had, at one point in time, been white but had recently taken on a pale, decrepit yellow coloring that reminded her of teeth that had greeted cigarette smoke one too many times.

Kyle reached out and took hold of the back of Veronica's shirt just as she reached the first landing, nearly causing her to tumble backwards. "Shh!" He paused, giving her ample time to spin around and kick him for nearly turning her into a human slinky. "Did you hear something?"

"No…" At least, she didn't think she did. "Do you mind letting go of my shirt?"

He continued to pause for a few more passing moments before releasing her clothing. "Sorry, I'm just all hands." He added with a short, uncomfortable laugh, "Just keep your ears open, okay? I could have sworn I heard something."

Returning her attention to the landing, doing well enough to adhere to Kyle's immediate worry, Veronica found a rather heavy looking door standing directly before her. The stairs continued to wind upwards to her right and it seemed as if a window the next landing up did its part in letting some much needed daylight into the building. Since she had, apparently, been declared leader once again, Veronica took it upon herself to approach the door, having no real idea as to where to begin looking for the source of the scream they had heard earlier. Wrapping her hand around the large, metal handle of the door, she attempted to pull it open to no avail. Gripping it with both hands, she tried once again.

"What's wrong? Has the lock been rusted shut?" Kyle peered over her shoulder, most likely watching in amusement as she struggled to open the door.

"Don't be stupid," Veronica shot back, pulling once more. "It's… it's just stuck."

Kyle leaned his shotgun up against the nearby wall and reached past Veronica for the door handle. "Here, let me try."

Stepping back, brushing her hands off against her pants, Veronica couldn't stop herself from saying, "Oh, alright. What do I get if the 'big, strong man' can't open the door for me?"

"How about dinner and a movie?" Kyle tugged once, and like Veronica, failed at opening the door.

It was then that Veronica heard a faint noise from above. The soft breathing lasted all of a couple of seconds before falling silent.

"No?" Kyle asked, bracing himself as he began to pull on the door as hard as he could. "Fine, fine," he grunted as his attempt to open the door once again amounted to nothing. "I'll let you get to second base, but that's it. I'm a good Christian, if nothing else."

"Kyle, forget about the door." Veronica turned to the stairs leading up, further into the building. "Let's just keep moving." Instead of choosing to leave the building and its prisoners to their fate, Veronica allowed herself to be swayed by curiosity and the lure of danger.

Despite how slow Veronica attempted to ascend the stairs, each step she took still echoed throughout the stairwell, as if the building had some sort of plot against her and Kyle. When they finally managed to reach the next landing, standing in front of the mostly dust covered window, the woman's voice called out again, significantly weaker than before. Her cries for help, unlike Veronica and Kyle's footsteps, seemed to fade into the old walls of the building, as if the structure was trying to devour the woman from existence. The two survivors silently agreed to check the door on the third floor landing.

Unlike the other door, this one opened quite easily, revealing a long, narrow hallway leading down to the back end of the building. Several doors to apartments lined the wall, some hanging open and others still closed. Aside from the darkness the blanketed most of the hall, the most disturbing part of it stood at the far end, directly in front of another window. The figure of a person stood there, unmoving, seemingly staring down the hall at Veronica and Kyle. Much like she had felt when Butch stared at her the night before, Veronica had to fight the urge to draw one of her handguns and fire down the hall in order to keep herself from dying underneath the infernal gaze of the figure.

"Hello?" Kyle called down the hall, stepping past Veronica. Apparently, he wasn't quite as unnerved as she felt. "Are you alright?"

"H-help… Help… me…" The figure moved, stumbling forward as she clutched her stomach.

Kyle began to move down the hall, obviously eager to do what he could to assist the woman. Veronica started to follow him, even if her legs begged to stay behind and watch the careless fool approach his doom, but in the end a lengthy, drawn out hiss stopped her in place and caused her to turn around. Another one of the skinless creatures that she and Kyle had confronted at the fire station seemed to stare at her from the stairs, its exposed muscles and brain seemingly throbbing with anticipation of a new prey to kill.

"Shit!" Kyle yelled out, snapping Veronica out of her immediate distress. She released the door between the hallway and the stairwell, turning around to see a massive, disfigured shadow come down upon the woman at the far end of the hall. Her screams lasted only a few seconds before every last bit of life drained away from her body. Kyle stepped back, bumping into Veronica. "We need to get the hell out of here. Now."

"What… What the hell is that…?" Veronica asked, far too overtaken by the surreal sight at the other end of the hallway. The creature seemed to have multiple limbs, like dark, rigid tentacles extending out of a disfigured body. It stood on two of its limbs, the rest wrapped around its latest meal in order to secure the poor woman against its body. Oddly enough, behind the curtain of fear and shock that fell over Veronica's mind, part of her wanted to know what it would feel like tearing one of its limbs off.

Kyle grabbed her arm and began to pull her back towards the stairwell. "Come on!"

The large, hellish creature let the woman's body fall to the ground, turning its attention to Veronica and Kyle. It seemed to watch them for a moment before falling to the ground. Sharp ticking noises echoed through the hall like someone furiously writing away on a typewriter as it scurried towards them. It was only after Kyle pulled Veronica back into the stairwell, letting the heavy door close behind them, did she remember that the long tongued, skinless monster lurked outside the hall. They were trapped between two monsters far worse than any slow moving, fragile zombie.

"Go!" Kyle yelled, pressing against the door in order to buy Veronica some extra time to escape the building.

His words only fell into her consciousness for a brief moment before a sharp pain in the back of her head shot down the rest of her body and carved out any further thoughts. Kyle might have said more, but her numbing silence once again braced her ears until, finally, she knew no more.


	23. Part 22

Screaming.

"LET ME GO! NO! NO!"

Screaming turned to pleading.

"NO! DON'T! PLEASE, STOP!"

A gentle nudge felt like the prick of a thousand long needles, impaling their way through Veronica's flesh. At first, even the voice sounded foreign, cold and haunting. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty." Another light nudge followed and the needles made their way out, leaving small punctures, several drops of blood and something far more scarring in their wake. "No offense, but now might not be the best of times to relive those horrid childhood experiences with the local preacher."

Her eyes opened and reality flooded her senses, instantly demolishing and whisking away any remnants of her most recent sleep-induced trauma. Lying on the floor, against a wall, an empty and dirty room surrounded Veronica. A carpet looking to have never been vacuumed stood in the center of the room like an old, forgotten quilt laid out for a picnic. The decayed remains of a banana peel, crawling with a small colony of ants, was not two feet to her right, highlighted by one of the several small rays of light that shined through the tattered shades that covered the three windows along the nearest wall. An old couch, small coffee table and an assortment of other typical living room furniture had been shoved up against the only closed door in the room. For a brief second, it amazed Veronica that she had found an apartment in worse condition than her own.

"Yes," Kyle spoke again, taking his hand away from her arm. "Those are ants."

Veronica shut her eyes and shook her head, still in a light daze. She felt as if someone had strapped a small, vibrating motor to the back of her skull. Only through a feat of amazing conviction did she manage to force herself to speak when her body really only wanted to be wound in silence and fall back to the floor. "What happened?"

When Veronica attempted to sit up, she ended up collapsing back down on her left arm. Dizziness had taken full reign over her body and she found it difficult to move much at all. It was only through some help on Kyle's part that she managed to sit up against the closest wall.

"You should probably be careful." He took a seat next to her after helping her get situated. "You were knocked against a wall pretty hard. Got a pretty wicked gash on the side of your head, too." Kyle cracked his knuckles before adding, "And since I hate seeing pretty women bleed, I went ahead and patched you up."

Still a bit out of it, Veronica let out a short, humoring laugh as she brought her fingers to the left side of her head where, sure enough, she found a bandage wound around the top of her skull. "And if I were ugly?"

As if Kyle had already thought ahead and developed an answer to such a question, he replied, "I would have put you out of you misery like I did my dog Scooter back when I was thirteen." Of course, even if Veronica had any suspicions that he was serious, a follow up laugh assured her that Kyle was simply being his usual, jackass-like self.

"If you ever shoot me," Veronica said, lowering her head as a faint sense of numbness began to replace the throbbing pain in her side. "I will beat you."

"Duly noted."

Silence fell between the two survivors and for a moment, Veronica thought that she could make out the sound of the ants scurrying across the floor to feast upon the browned remains of the banana peel. It took awhile, but eventually the dizziness and sense of panic that had plagued her body began to fade, leaving her alone to face the realities of the hell around her once again.

Kyle started to stir, standing up in order to stretch out his limbs. "How are you feeling?"

It took a moment for Veronica to reply, mostly because she wasn't all too sure as to how to answer the question. "Like I got hit by a fire truck." She sighed and placed her fingers against her temple, wincing as a sharp pain tore its way through her skull. "Mind filling me in on what happened?"

"Well, you see…" Kyle took a moment to roll his shoulders and stretch out his arms. "While I was holding that door closed in the stairwell so that the giant 'Fuck-You' creature wouldn't break through and tear us limb from limb, you were smacked into the wall by one of those creepy, long tongued things. You know, I bet if they had skin and didn't look like a jacked up human-frog love child that they'd be pretty damn popular with the ladies." He followed up his crude, disgusting comment with a laugh and Veronica found that it took a considerable amount of effort to restrain herself from doing something, anything, to inflict pain and discomfort on Kyle. "Anyways, just like that, All Mighty Veronica was out like a light and once again, it was up to The Amazing Kyle to rescue the damsel in distress and save the day."

Veronica rolled her eyes, hating to consider just how many times Kyle had come to her aid. How could she have let herself be so careless?

"Moving on," Kyle continued. "Being the stuff that every woman's wet dreams are made out of, I managed to shoot that skinless fucker point blank with the shotgun. I'll even show the place where its upper torso is splattered on the wall when we head out of this place."

"Focus, Kyle. How did we end up in this room?"

"Well, that's the interesting part. After killing the thing that knocked you out cold, the hellspawn I was trying to keep from following us pushed open the door. Now," he let out a short, somewhat nervous laugh, "let me tell you. When you're staring down something like that monster, you do one of two things. You either end up pissing yourself or you shoot the bastard with the most powerful gun you have. It managed to put some nice cuts into my arms that I can only hope will leave some sort of kick ass scar, but I managed to down the thing. In case you're curious, no. They're just about as ugly dead as they are as alive. I was half expecting the damn thing to get up even after I shot off several of its limbs and put a nice hole in its body."

Veronica didn't want to look up to check on Kyle's wounds, nor inquire further into just how he managed to pull off such a feat. In the end, such trivial details seemed unimportant when compared to the fact that they were both still alive.

Of course, Kyle wasn't done talking. Kyle was never done talking. Ever. "Bad news, though. I had to ditch the shotgun."

"You… what!?" Veronica's eyes went wide. She had depended on him to carry around the heavy firepower and he threw away the most powerful gun they had?

"Hey! Hey!" Kyle took a step away from Veronica, no doubt in an attempt to give himself some space to run if she decided to try to claw his eyes out. "You should be thanking me! It wasn't easy hauling your fat ass up those stairs, let me tell you."

A gaze filled with the scorn of a thousand bitter, angry women shot Kyle's way. How could someone be so heroic and capable, yet such an incompetent jackass at the same time? "What? What the hell did you just say?"

"Er…" Kyle offered a wide smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Eh… I love you?"

Veronica groaned, turning her attention away from her companion as if looking at him any longer would cause a blood vessel to explode. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

"Yea… Yea, I know."

During the next few minutes, Veronica attempted to collect herself, eventually managing to stand up. She still had all her equipment with her, something that she was rather thankful for. It would have been horribly difficult for her to have had to come to terms with losing either of her guns or, god forbid, her knife. As Kyle went over to look out the window, she went and retrieved the backpack of supplies from besides the doorway leading into the small kitchen of the apartment. She took out one of the last couple of bottles of water and drank about half of it.

"Hey, Ronnie," Kyle whispered as she put the bottle back into the bag and slung it over her shoulders. "Check this out."

After she walked over to the window, Kyle gestured for her to look outside. Pressing her hands against the glass, she did what she could to look down into the alley below. A dark skinned man wearing an all too clean white suit had stopped in the middle of the alley. He carried a typical briefcase in one hand while pressing the other against his ear. It seemed as if he were talking to himself, but it proved impossible to make out what he was saying. When his hand left his ear, he continued walking down the alley, out of sight.

Everything seemed out of place about that individual and Veronica felt a similar sensation as to when she was confronted by Butch and his band of mercenaries. Luckily, this time Kyle didn't attempt to get this person's attention, but that didn't quell the feeling of paranoia that had once again struck Veronica. "Another mercenary…" she muttered, more so to herself than to Kyle.

"A mercenary?" Kyle questioned, bringing his attention away from the alley and to Veronica.

She sighed, figuring it impossible to explain why she thought of this stranger as another mercenary. He couldn't have been a typical survivor as everything about him seemed off. "Yea… Call it woman's intuition."

"A… woman?"

Veronica shut her eyes, letting out an aggravated groan before turning towards Kyle. "Yes, Kyle. A woman. You know, those people with vaginas that you've never managed to please in your entire lifetime? Yea, I'm one of those." She began to walk away, as if planning to storm out of the room through the rather hefty barricade Kyle had constructed against the apartment door.

"Oh, ouch! My man-pride!" Kyle laughed and followed Veronica, stepping up next to her as she stared at the barricade of furniture, wondering if she'd be able to successfully throw the T.V. at him. "I'm just kidding, Ronnie."

"You mean you're just an asshole. Whatever. I'm getting out of here." With that bit of spite induced commitment, Veronica began to remove the various objects that acted as Kyle's barricade.

After a passing moment of awkwardness between the two survivors, Kyle helped her dismantle the makeshift barricade, pulling away the coffee table from in front of the couch. "You know, there's probably more of those creatures in the building."

"Of course," Veronica found herself replying. "Anything to make my life more miserable." She began to tug on the couch, slowly pulling it away from the door. "I don't think they'd be much of an issue if someone didn't drop the shotgun…"

Kyle helped her with the couch and soon enough the only thing standing between them and the hallway just outside the apartment was a bolt-locked door. "Alright, alright. Next time if I have the choice between saving you and holding on to the shotgun, I'll pick the gun. Sheesh."

All she could really do, not wanting to bother carrying on with their current conversation lest the annoyance drive her utterly insane, was roll her eyes and start unlocking the door. Obviously enough, Kyle got wind of Veronica's growing impatience with him and remained quiet, following her into the hall after taking hold of his rifle. Much to their relief, they found the hallway empty of anything besides hollow shadows.

Almost as if Veronica hadn't noticed the rotten smell that flowed through the building before, she immediately had to clasp a hand over her mouth and nose upon stepping into the hall. Obviously, Kyle had forgotten to mention how horrid this particular floor smelled, leaving her to fall into the trap of taking a rather deep inhale shortly after opening the apartment door. It was odd, however, that even after all this time, the smell of decay still affected her that much when the sight of it did little more than vaguely haunt her memories.

Kyle began to mention something about retrieving the shotgun, but three consecutive gunshots cut him off. Both he and Veronica turned their attention to the back end of the hall, specifically to the opened door that led to another stairwell. Driven by some sort of insatiable thirst for blood and the ever-unwelcome guest curiosity, Veronica began to walk down the hall, to the door. As much as she would have preferred to avoid the man in white, she still craved confrontation and answers, knowing that if this individual worked for Umbrella as well, that he'd have to know something about the situation.

Kyle followed her into the other stairwell that ran up and down the backside of the building. They paused as soon as they left the hall behind, waiting to hear if anything was lurking within the darkness of the stairwell. Silence doing well enough to assure them of some semblance to safety, the two survivors made their way down a floor and stopped in front of the closed door that would lead to the third floor hallway. Kyle pressed his ear to the door, waiting to see if he could catch some signs of movement on the other side. Eventually, Veronica grew tired of standing in the hall and pushed him aside, opening the door herself. She couldn't entertain thoughts of staying within that building longer than she had to, let alone leaving the man in white to finish whatever business he had there without being able to approach him.

"Okay… Screw caution," Kyle muttered as he followed Veronica into and down the hall.

The most disturbing part of making their way back towards the front stairwell was passing by the opened apartment doors. At any moment, it felt as if some sort of demonic entity would leap out and strike, but no such instance ever occurred. Stillness became their companion as they reached the far end of the hall, opening the door that Kyle had, at one point, attempted to keep closed. On the other side, they found the remnants of the beasts that Kyle had dispatched, the shotgun, and another series of gunshots from the floor below them. Veronica had already turned around, intending on going back into the hall in pursuit of the man in white when Kyle picked up the shotgun.

"Hey, where are you going? You didn't even look at the work of art I managed to plaster on the wall with this baby."

As Kyle followed Veronica back into the hall, she kept her attention directed in front of herself and addressed him. "I can't just ignore that guy… The mercenaries we ran into before were complete assholes and they worked for Umbrella. Can you honestly tell me that the man we saw in the alley doesn't look even the slightest bit odd?" She stopped walking, taking in a deep breath before turning to confront Kyle. "I'm sick of this bullshit and I want to know just what the hell is going on."

Slinging his shotgun over his shoulder, the rifle now strapped securely to his back, Kyle locked eyes with Veronica. "What happened to, you know, just getting the hell out of here? I'm not really all that anxious to run into anyone else who could be a mercenary. Something about having a gun pointed at me kind of makes my opinion of people decrease."

Could she tell him that a part of her still burned with the desire for revenge against the mercenaries that held so little regard for her life? No, no she couldn't. She couldn't even admit that to herself. "I'm… I'm not just going to walk away from this." Conviction laden with a cocktail of blood lust, anger and curiosity took over her body, allowing her to ignore the ever-present pounding of her heart and the part of her mind that knew, knew for a fact, that she should just leave the building and try to get out of the city.

"Fine, fine…" Kyle shrugged, forcing an obviously uncomfortable smile. "It's not like I'm going to leave you, anyways. Life tends to suck without a little estrogen in the air."

Silence lingered between them before, finally, Veronica broke gaze with Kyle and turned around to continue down the hall. In no time, they were back in the staircase that ran through the back portion of the building. The closer they got to the second floor door, the more apparent it became that they weren't alone. The muffled voice of the man speaking broke through the building's heavy walls, filling the air with inaudible, haunting words.

Pressing her body against the wall besides the door to the second floor hallway, Veronica slowly pried open the door so that she could make out what the man in white was saying. Kyle leaned in over her shoulder and in any other situation, she would have probably hit him for invading so much of her personal space.

"The blood sample has been acquired, yes." He spoke with a light Jamaican accent, as if such dialect simply refused to leave from his grasp of language. "So far, I've still only come across fifteen survivors. That young boy was the only one to have escaped me." He paused, obviously listening to someone. "No, the building's empty except for the Deimos and a few Lickers. I found the body of a recently deceased woman. The creatures had, as assumed, drained her spinal fluids and left her remains to rot."

Kyle gave Veronica a concerned glance, which she completely ignored, far too captivated by this man's words to give Kyle's worries the attention that they probably deserved.

"Alright, I shall continue to search for the subjects. I will contact you again in approximately ten minutes." Another brief pause. "Muguil, out."

As the man's final words echoed through the hall and fell silent, Veronica braced her .45 handgun, Granite, and slipped into the hall. If she had been less focused on her desire to confront the man in white, she probably would have noticed Kyle reach out in an attempt to stop her from carelessly running into the narrow hall. Furthermore, she would have probably heard him call her name and notice when he never followed her through the doorway. In an odd way, all that existed to her at that moment was herself and the man in white, Muguil, standing several yards down the hall. She wanted answers and blood, not necessarily in that order.

"Move and I'll fucking kill you right now!" Veronica's voice took the reins of commandment in a way that she had never done before.

The man in white turned around to face her, still holding on to that briefcase she saw him carrying in the alley. Amazingly, from what she could tell, his entire white outfit was oddly vacant of blood. More so, beyond the man laid a rather large carcass of what she could only assume used to be one of those creatures that had killed the woman when she and Kyle first entered the building. One of its legs still twitched, as if something like life continued to burn inside its twisted body.

"Little girl," Muguil said rather casually for someone who had a gun aimed directly at him. "Do you even know what you're getting yourself into?"

"I'm asking the god damn questions!" Veronica fired back. "Just who the hell are you?"

"I'm sorry dear. I don't usually make a habit of introducing myself to my victims. Do excuse me, would you?"

He wasted no time in reaching his free hand into his coat and stepping up against one of the hallway walls. Of course, as soon as he started moving, Veronica fired. Both shots she managed to get off missed their target. She never got a chance for a third shot as a small, canister like object bounced to the ground in front of her and then exploded, filling the hall with a blinding white light. The searing pain that blanketed her eyes caused her to take a few steps. Even her eardrums rang from the high-pitched explosion. Of course, as luck would have it, as soon as her sense of hearing and sight began to return to her, she caught glimpse of the blurred figure of her adversary dashing towards her, arm pulled across his chest as if he were ready to smack her across the face.

When she realized that a thick, foot long blade extended from underneath his sleeve, she had just enough time to utter, "Shit!" before stepping back in order to dodge his attempt to gash her throat. Like some sort of whirling dervish, Muguil's assault did not end there. She did what she could to match each of his strikes with a swift dodge, but her vision was still blurred and the side of her head began to pound. The inevitable finally happened and Veronica tripped, falling to one knee.

"Now, you die." The man in white kicked Veronica to the ground, threw his briefcase to the side of the hall and pulled out a large magnum from within his coat.

Thoughts never even crossed her mind on how to escape the situation. Perhaps, in the end, that proved to be a good thing as it prevented concern and fear from burdening her body. Almost as soon as the mercenary in the white suit took a step to close the distance between himself and Veronica in order to assure an accurate and quick end to his target, her left hand braced the handle of her knife as she threw Granite through the air. Wasting no time thereafter, she seized the short opportunity her gun smacking against his chest provided, shot to her feet and dashed to Muguil, veering off towards his left side until she had closed distance significantly, forcing him into direct combat.

Veronica's emerald colored knife slid across Muguil's wrist blade as her gun fell to the ground. What followed next was more like a dance without music, each combatant reacting to the opponent's movement with crystal fluidity, as if they had rehearsed the motions for months prior. Every time Veronica's knife came close to tearing through Muguil's neck, his blade sliced through the air not three inches from Veronica's chest. To make matters worse, every now and then, Muguil would attempt a point blank shot with his magnum, the deafening boom of such a weapon forcing the headache raging in Veronica's skull to worsen.

Eventually, motions gave way to tiredness and after what seemed like a lengthy lapse in time caused by the drunkenness of adrenaline, blood was finally spilled. A quick, confident smirk on Muguil's part followed as Veronica's free hand immediately ran up and pressed against the left side of her face, bracing the open wound that cut down from the corner of her eye to her chin. That brief period of rest from their battle ended as Veronica flipped her knife upside down and attempted to stick it into Muguil's jugular, screaming with an unearthly anger fortifying her voice. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

The blade missed his throat, but plunged into the wrist of the hand that Muguil held his magnum in. A sense of immediate distress crossed the man in white's face as his gun fell to the ground with a rather heavy, metallic clang. Like a marionette under the guise of some other force, Veronica released her knife, leaving it within Muguil's wrist, and began to step back, watching as he groaned, grit his teeth and removed the weapon, tossing it aside like a piece of trash.

No shorter than Veronica's knife hit the ground did Muguil charge at her, obviously determined to end the conflict before it could get any worse. Again, her body moved in reaction to his attacks, as if she had pried into his mind and knew what motions he would take. After being pushed several feet back from dodging Muguil's strikes, Veronica managed to dive to the ground past him, scrabbling to her feet to run back towards the other end of the hall. Muguil's pursuing footsteps soon followed and when she reached the end of the hall, she stopped and turned around to face the mercenary.

"No more games, ah? Little girl."

"No. More. Games." As he continued to approach her, her muttered words falling into the boundless depths of the building, she aimed the magnum she had picked up from the ground at him, watching in some sick sort of delight as his eyes went wide in utter shock and horror. Then, a series of gunshots followed and only sections of Muguil's skull and upper torso remained. Shortly thereafter, an amazing, throbbing sensation ran up Veronica's arms, forcing them into a sense of numbness.

She let the gun slip from her fingers before approaching the man in white's corpse, his suit now stained with the dark red, blue and purple liquids that had, at one point, ran through his body. Standing over his remains, she couldn't refrain from laughing at him. Had he been so confident that he would kill her? She wondered what, exactly, ran through his mind when he finally realized that he had lost. The joy of slaying another person, another creature, wrapped itself around Veronica's throbbing, sore body and warmed her.

"Muguil?" A man's voice called from the earpiece that Veronica retrieved from the mercenary's remains. "Muguil!?"

Pressing the device against her ear, Veronica let out a sinister laugh. "He's dead."

A brief period of silence passed before the man on the other end spoke again. "Who is this? Hello?"

She dropped the communication device to the ground and pressed her heel against it, grinding it against the floor until it was nothing more than shattered, broken fragments.


	24. Part 23

Heartbeats turned into distant, muffled gunshots. After three explosions dissipated and the familiar bitter silence of the apartment building returned, Veronica found herself standing over Muguil's mutilated, defiled body. Granite and her dagger were secured once again to her belt. A new gun holster wrapped around her torso, holding Muguil's magnum firmly in place against her side, concealed by her vest. A few of Muguil's remaining magnum rounds had been shoved into Veronica's vest pockets, the remainder tossed into the bookbag of supplies still slung over her back. A fingerless, black leather glove now covered Veronica's left hand, part of an intricate contraption secured around her wrist and forearm. Underneath the glove, the base of her index and ring finger were adorned with metallic rings, connected to the device around her arm by short, tight chains, allowing a simple flick of the wrist to release an inner latch and cause a thick, flat, foot long blade to extend out from the contraption. Finally, as if pilfering every last object from Muguil's body hadn't done enough to taunt his spirit, Veronica's right hand held his briefcase.

Another gunshot rang out from the front of the building and Veronica let out a deep gasp, almost as if she had just been hit in the stomach with a battering ram. She continued to breathe with short, rapids breaths, her eyes falling to ground to gaze upon the shredded remains of the mercenary in white, ultimately burning the image of the deceased man into her memories.

Not even considering that she had no recollection of retrieving the man's equipment, Veronica began to dash down the hall. Thoughts of Kyle came flooding back to her, followed by a sense of concern seeing as how he never followed her into the hallway to face Muguil. As if her mind had decided to taunt her, the sound of Kyle calling after her as she left him behind in the stairwell came back to her, echoing throughout her mind as if she had taken a brief step back in time to relive that very moment.

Of course, distraught managed to blind Veronica to the fact that she was in the hallway of which she and Kyle couldn't open the door from the front end. It only took her a few seconds of running to realize why. Stepping past the now unmoving corpse of the monster that Muguil had killed prior to his confrontation with her, Veronica found herself stopping in place. From the shadows that previously masked that end of the hallway from her eyes came a large sight of coagulated, organic puss nestled in front of the door to the stairwell. It appeared as if it were moving in place like an animate ball of slime. Aside from submitting to the overpowering sense of dread that began to creep up her spine, Veronica found herself stepping backwards until she tripped over the body of the, as Kyle so delicately phrased it, "Fuck You Creature."

As much as she wanted to scream, Veronica managed to keep her jaw shut and, instead, scrambled to her feet and dashed down the hall. Adding insult to injury, she slid over the puddle of gore that had collected around the mercenary's body, nearly slamming into the wall. In the end, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace when she finally managed to escape that hallway, going as far as to stop and rest against the door that closed behind her, allowing her body to catch up with her rapidly pounding heart. Shortly thereafter, she dashed up to the floor above, eager to find Kyle and leave behind Muguil's body for the monsters lurking in the darkness.

Her footsteps fell upon the third floor hallway in perfect rhythm with her heart. She wasted no time concerning herself with the possibility of monsters lurking behind open doorways, merely speeding down the hall, which had seemingly become something from Wonderland, winding down the length of the building for all eternity. Scratching sounds echoed from behind her as she ran and it proved impossible for Veronica not to picture hundreds of those long tongued, skinless monsters crawling over every inch of the hall's floor and walls in direct pursuit of her. It was only by some sort of otherworldly luck that she managed to collide into the door leading to the front-end stairwell, shoving it open, nearly flying down the stairs in the process.

By the time Veronica made it to the area that she and Kyle had initially walked into when they entered the building, the sounds of her demonic pursuers having since faded from perception, she found Kyle sitting slumped over at the bottom step. The body of another one of those skinless creatures was lying motionless at his feet. Almost as soon as she caught sight of him, he turned his head towards her and flashed an uneasy smile, no doubt somewhat at ease now that they two of them had rejoined.

"I'll be honest," he began to say as Veronica sped past him, finally coming to a much needed halt in front of the wall of mailboxes. "These things scared the hell out of me at first, but now they're just starting to piss me off."

Veronica took a moment to catch her breath, pressing her shoulder against the closest wall in order to take off some weight from her legs. Despite how hard her heart pounded, she still felt cold. Her lungs felt chilled with every desperate, forced inhale. The only part of her that actually burned was the side of her face, where Muguil had left a nice signature gash prior to his departure from the world. Still, the burning wound only served to provoke her craving for warmth, leaving her to fear that without it, uncontrollable panic and anxiety would continue to drain every last bit of energy and life from within her.

"Woah, Ronnie." Kyle stood up, obviously having taken notice of Veronica's current state of turmoil. "Are you alright? You're bleeding…" When he glanced down, Veronica knew he took notice of the briefcase she was carrying. "You killed him, didn't you?" His voice felt a touch emptier than usual, the carefree, joking persona having waned; leaving Veronica to think, to worry, that he began to look at her in a different, blood covered light.

"He…" She let out the air from her lungs and pushed herself to stand up straight. "I didn't have a choice." Of course she defended herself, even though somehow, she knew it was as much Muguil's fault as it was her own.

Veronica would have said more in her defense, mostly in order to push herself into more of a denial about the sensations that overcame her, but Kyle spoke again before she had the chance. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, you know." He grinned, setting his shotgun across both his shoulders. "I trust you."

Silence took her tongue, but her heart began to settle. Veronica found that her skin had either succumbed to the chill that crawled over her or finally began to warm. Still, despite the sense of normalcy that one again returned to her, all Veronica could really do in response to Kyle was offer a short lived glance and let awkwardness settle between them once more.

In the end, Kyle saved her from having to force herself to say anything. "Hold it, what's that under your vest?"

He actually reached out in an attempt to pull aside her vest, an action which Veronica immediately cut short by smacking his hand away. "Really, Kyle?"

"No! I wasn't talking about your boobs." He laughed, pulling his arm away in defeat. "The gun."

"Oh…" Although Veronica would never admit it, she did feel a bit embarrassed by the conclusion she had jumped to. "I got it from the guy I killed." Those words sent pins and needles running up her back. Before Kyle had a chance to speak, she felt compelled to add, "He said he killed other survivors…" It never really dawned on her that Kyle was there when she overheard Muguil mention that bit of information.

Thankfully ignoring the topic of Muguil's death, Kyle went on to say, "It looks pretty heavy. Mind if I see it?"

Glancing past her companion, up towards the stairwell, Veronica replied, "Let's get out of here first." Just then, she realized how late in the evening it must have been, considering the orange haze that covered the sky outside. "I want to look through his suitcase too."

"What if it's a bomb?"

The two began to walk out of the building, leaving all of its horrors behind for some other unlucky individuals to accidently stumble across. Kyle's question, however, nearly made Veronica stop in place by the sheer randomness of it. "Why would a mercenary be carrying around a bomb in a briefcase?"

He laughed. "I think the real question is why wouldn't a mercenary be carrying around a bomb in a briefcase?" Obviously realizing the stupidity of his suggestion, Kyle quickly changed conversation topics. "Nice fashion accessory there."

Veronica held up her left arm, following next to Kyle back into Raccoon City's streets. "Look." She wasted no time in pulling her wrist back, causing the blade to plunge out from within its mechanical holster.

"Needs more shotgun." Kyle seemed interested in Veronica's latest addition to her arsenal, despite his suggestion of, somehow, attaching a shotgun to the wrist-mounted device. He watched as she manipulated a small lever on the cleverly designed weapon to force the blade back into its hidden position. "Alright. Fine. You win the Badass of the Day award. Happy?"

Veronica felt inclined to add her own touch of sarcasm to the conversation by replying, "Yes, very," but she remained silent. With a small grin parting her lips, feeling thankful to be anywhere outside of that wretched apartment building, she brought her gaze to a particular flock of crows nestled on top the building directly across the street. She kind of wondered if those were the same birds that she had seen on occasion before, regardless of the immense oddity behind the thought of a flock of crows stalking her throughout the city. In the end, she attributed the feeling to her usual sense of paranoia and returned her focus to the task at hand. They still needed to find a place to stay for the night. It would have simply been impossible to reach the highway before nightfall blanketed the city.

"I used to date a girl from around here." It still hadn't failed to surprise Veronica how casually Kyle could speak considering that the undead roamed the street with them. Grant it, most of the time he did speak slowly, often taking in to account the approximate distance of the creatures before striking up a conversation. "She was a real fire cracker. Short girl, natural red head. Married. You know, the perfect recipe for amazing sex. The only thing that could have made it all more interesting would have been if she was bi, which I regret to inform you, she wasn't."

Somehow, Veronica managed to uphold far less interest in the particular subject matter of their conversation than Kyle. She didn't even bother offering any response, letting his words simply fall unanswered. Relationships had always bothered her, never having desired to allow someone become an integral part of her existence. The only thing that annoyed her more than entertaining such thoughts was listening to others prattle on about their useless relationships.

"Anyways," Kyle finally segued after offering unprovoked details of his and his past girlfriend's bed-bound escapades, "I bring this up because I know there's a smallish motel a few streets that way." He made a gesture towards the right street of an intersection. "That's why I've been cleverly leading us this way."

That caught Veronica by surprise, as she hadn't even noticed that, for the first time during the entire ordeal, she wasn't in lead. "And you think a motel will keep the undead from killing us in our sleep?"

He shrugged and several birds sounded off from the distant skies above. "Well, it has a second floor, so I'd say that unless the place is already crawling with things that want to eat us, it should be as good of a place as any."

As the two survivors rounded the corner to head down the street in the direction of the motel, Veronica took notice of a small group of zombies that had started to follow them. By this point, she had grown used to the slow moving, mindless flesh-eaters' presences. In most cases, they only proved dangerous in tight quarters and in large numbers. Luckily for her and Kyle, they possessed the ability of climbing on top of, and over, obstacles, an ability that the undead severely lacked.

However, if only to make matters worse, several crows flew on top of the telephone wires lining the street that Kyle and Veronica began to walk down. Every now and then, Veronica would glance up, finding all of their small, beady red eyes focused on her movements. They would caw, almost as if they were communicating with each other.

"Kyle, I think-" A loud bang cut off the rest of her sentence.

Several garbage cans, which were previously lined up in front of an alley, tumbled to the ground as a rather large mass of rotten corpses began to flood into the street. A quick succession of cawing followed and before Veronica knew what had occurred, the crows began to swoop down from the wires. One nearly dove directly into her face, causing her to stumble backwards in surprise. It was only after recovering from her almost, not quite, near-death impact with a stray crow that Veronica took further notice of the undead piling from the alley. As if things hadn't escalated to an alarming level of dangerousness, it would only be a matter of time before she and Kyle would end up stranded without daylight in the maelstrom of rotten, bloodthirsty bodies and rabid birds.

"Get the hell away from me!" Kyle swung his shotgun through the air like a staff in an attempt to bat away the couple of crows that decided to try to peck at his eyes.

Out of some sort of instinct, Veronica found herself reaching for her 9mm handgun, Red Rose. Deciding it best not to fire a few rounds at a couple of moving targets only a foot or so from Kyle's skull, she instead began to run to him, reaching for her knife in the process. As it turned out, he didn't really need as much aid as she assumed, finally managing to pull the trigger to his gun, sending the crows flying off in fear for the time being.

"You better run!" Kyle cried out, taking the time to aim his shotgun in the direction of the crows.

Veronica stopped him before he could use up any more ammunition in a failed attempt to drop the flying creatures that attacked him. "We need to run." She glanced over her shoulder, noticed the amount of undead working their way through the maze of wreckage that covered the street, and began to push Kyle until he got the hint that they couldn't risk standing in one spot. "How far away is this place?"

The two survivors ducked as another crow cut through the air between them. Standing up, Kyle replied, "Ten blocks away, give or take."

Veronica remained quiet as the two climbed over the hood of a crashed cop car. Ten blocks should have been enough to lose their undead pursuers, but she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that overtook her. The caws from the crazed crows circling in the skies above didn't help any to settle her nerves. As the two survivors began to run down the street, noting the sounds of the zombie mob that had taken to following at their heels, Veronica tried to come up with an alternative course of action should the motel fail to provide the sanctuary that they needed.

Her thoughts fell to the wayside, however, when a crow landed on top of her head, dragging its talons through her hair and over her skull. A simple, short yelp escaped her lips before, motivated more so by annoyance and rage than anything else, Veronica skillfully drew her knife from its sheath and plunged it into the side of the bird. In the quick second that followed, she tore the impaled, black nuisance from her head and flicked her arm, sending its writhing body into a forceful impact against the ground. Picking up her pace again, she wiped her blade off against the side of her pants and slipped it back into its sheath.

"You alright?" Kyle yelled as Veronica caught up with him. The only reply she gave him was a quick glance, the likes of which she doubted he even noticed.

Both survivors knew that, after awhile, it wasn't so much the horde of zombies they were running from. Dashing between the remains of vehicles and random, destroyed clutter proved enough to leave the horde several paces back, struggling to get by such obstacles. However, the flock of crows that continually fly overhead proved to be an unending problem, and every now and then, the two would come across a few wandering zombies to make their attempted escape from the demon-birds all the more difficult.

Dashing past one of the many, nondescript vehicles on the street, Veronica couldn't help but to be reminded of her escape from the giant, trench coat wearing man days before. Although fleeing from a flock of flesh hungry crows didn't hold the exact same sense of urgency as her previous, daring escape, it did relate close enough that she actually felt the giant's hand wrap around her ankle, ready to toss her through another window.

Then she fell to the ground, feeling a chilled, slimy grasp squeezing around her ankle. A soft, yet horrifying and mindless moan came from behind her. In desperation to free herself from the zombie, she attempted to yank her leg free to no avail.

A series of quick gunshots rang through the air, followed by the heavy plop of crow carcasses hitting the ground. In the next instant, she heard Kyle yell out, "Don't move!" and watched him as he seemingly pointed his rifle directly at her.

Before Veronica had enough time to think, "Oh shit!" Kyle shot a single bullet, shattering the zombie's skull upon impact. Afterwards, Veronica pulled her ankle free from the creature's now limp hand and got to her feet. As she approached Kyle, he slung the rifle back around his back and picked up the shotgun, which he had apparently dropped in order to equip the rifle. Even though he had saved her life, or at least killed the zombie faster than she would have managed to, Veronica could only think about how close he must have been to lodging a bullet in her brain instead of the corpse's. Still, regardless of her increasing desire to yell at him for his carelessness, she kept her lips sealed and continued to run beside him.

The two survivors dodged another assault from the flock of crows, Kyle even going as far as to smack one out of the air with the back end of his shotgun. Finally, the motel came into view and Kyle called out, "There! We should probably head into the manager's office. It's that small room right at the front." He pointed, but Veronica could recognize the area he described well enough without physical guidance. If anything, they could at least wait in there for the crows to lose interest before heading to one of the motel rooms.

Veronica dashed around an animate corpse in the center of the street, intent on reaching the motel in order to give her aching legs a much needed rest. However, Kyle's cry for help caused her to stop in place and turn around just in time to see that a crow had started to claw at his face. A second crow crashed into the side of his head, causing him to lose his footing and fall to the ground, leaving him in the perfect position for the nearby zombie to take charge of the situation and have a snack.

As the undead corpse fell atop Kyle, who did what he could to use his shotgun as a barrier to keep the zombie from biting into his neck, for a fleeting second, it crossed Veronica's mind that she could just leave him. She wasn't at all obligated to save him and he had shown in the past to be the cause of a lot of her trouble. Not to mention, he had abandoned her once before. That thought alone proved almost enough to make her start walking away. Of course, one disturbing thought led to another, and by the end of it all, a familiar sensation urged her to simply wait and watch as Kyle lost his life to unfortunate circumstances.

With a deep breath, Veronica braced her knife and ran towards her companion, drawing the blade from its sheath just in time to tear into the wing of the unlucky crow that had decided to attempt to thwart her rescue. There was no way she was going to allow Kyle's death to lay on her consciousness, but most of all, she was afraid of what would happen to her if left alone. Before thoughts of how sickening it made her feel to depend on others could rise, Veronica plunged her knife into the skull of the zombie, listening with some faint delight as the knife tore through its rotten bone and caused its body to stay motionless once and for all.

Before getting up, Kyle watched as Veronica cleaned her blade against her clothing once again and returned it to its sheath. "I've lost count by now. Does this make us even?"

"Just stand up," Veronica commanded, feeling terribly nauseas.

As soon as the two survivors ducked into the manager's office of the Raccoon Lodge Motel, shutting the door behind them, the crows commenced a pitiful attempt of breaking through the door by crashing themselves into it, like some occult of suicide bombers. Kyle took a moment to lean against the counter of the small room while Veronica closed the curtains over the thankfully unbroken windows. She wondered how long it would be before the crows decided to try to break through the glass instead of the door.

After catching his breath, Kyle looked towards Veronica and said, "See if you can find the key to room 2B."

Not particularly enjoying taking orders, Veronica did comply and walked towards the wall where all of the room keys hung. Searching through the assortment of remaining keys, she asked with little more than annoyance enforcing her voice, "Is that where you and the red headed slut used to go?"

"Nah," Kyle laughed. "I made all of that up in order to make the walk here more interesting." Veronica rolled her eyes, plucking the 2B key from the wall. "I used to crash here when I had nowhere else to go and I always got room 2B."

"Nowhere else to go?" Veronica found herself asking, even though she couldn't imagine why she'd care.

Kyle pushed away from the counter and it was at this time Veronica realized the crows had stopped crashing into the door. "Yea, I normally slept at friends' places. I never thought I needed an apartment, since I was always supposed to get out of this city in just a week. Of course, that's pretty tough to do when work doesn't really come your way."

Veronica knew that if she pushed it, Kyle would have told her his profession and let on more about his past, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, opting instead to stay quiet and divert her gaze. After a few moments of silence passed, he offered a short, comforting laugh and approached her.

"But the past is dead, I'd say and we really don't need any more ugly, dead things walking around." He held out his open hand. "Want to go see if we can't make it to the room before getting pecked to death by a few birds?"

Veronica met his gaze for a brief moment before dropping the key into his hand.


	25. Part 24

Following their entry into room 2B, the two survivors did quick work in fortifying the room's weak points, going as far as to tilt the bed up against the window and door. They figured that any bit of extra support would help if the worst came to pass and the undead assaulted their room. Regardless, Veronica felt sure that the zombies couldn't make it upstairs to reach them. However, she still realized that stairs, most likely, wouldn't pose much of a problem for nearly any of the other creatures that roamed the city, but night had already fallen and they had no other options except to lock themselves in the motel room until dawn.

Much to her surprise, the bathroom still had access to running water. Even though Veronica had to take a cold shower, it felt relaxing to take one step closer towards washing away the ungodly filth and stench of the city. Even more, they managed to restock their water supply. They had enough energy bars to tide themselves over for a few more days. Regardless, food was really the least of Veronica's concerns. She had, after all, mastered the art of living off meager rations for weeks at a time due to her relatively pitiful income in her past life as a corner store clerk.

"So," Kyle said as Veronica walked back into the main room from the bathroom, her hair wet from her recent shower and her body still chilled from the bittersweet, cold embrace of the water. "I killed three roaches and a centipede while you were washing up. I really hope you don't mind sleeping on the floor with a bunch of pests."

Feeling refreshed from her shower, Veronica didn't have any second thoughts about replying, "I do, actually. Would you mind sleeping in the bathroom?"

With a grin, Kyle laid back on the floor and put his hands behind his head. "Har har, very funny. You have a sense of humor after all! And here I thought that I've been traveling with an emotionless, cold android all these days. Go figure."

"Don't push it," Veronica said, reverting to her usual tone, as she stepped over Kyle to approach the pile of equipment they had set in the corner of the room. Crouching down, she pushed aside her vest and Kyle's guns in order to find Muguil's briefcase. She sat against the wall and opened it up, finding three extra packages of magnum ammunition, several liquid filled vials, a small laptop and a pair of extra batteries for it.

"Anything interesting?" Kyle asked, still lying on the floor.

"A laptop…" Veronica muttered, too curious about the mercenary's supplies to give Kyle much attention.

She set the briefcase aside, opened the laptop and turned it on. In the next instant, the screen came to life and a soft, female voice spoke out. "Welcome, Muguil Alabastor." Shortly thereafter, the screen loaded the computer's desktop. Kyle made some comment on Muguil's last name, the details of which were lost on Veronica as she began searching through the computer for any sort of information. It didn't take long at all for her to find the icon labeled, "Mission Report." Clicking on it opened up a text program and the words of the recently deceased man in white became all that Veronica knew for the following few hours.

MISSION REPORT  
AGENT: MUGUIL L. ALABASTOR

OBJECTIVE: I am to infiltrate Raccoon City with intentions of obtaining blood samples, observational and battle data from various virus byproducts. Furthermore, I am to deal with anyone I come across as a hostile unit and dispatch them. When I am finished with my mission, I will call HQ and they shall send a helicopter to the extraction point.

REPORT

I will write down a summary of the events that occur throughout my mission, outlining my first contact with the various creatures I encounter. However, I will refrain from going into explicit detail. Such information will be covered in the B.O.W. dossier following my report.

It wasn't long after my drop-off that I encountered the most common creature in the city. The dead roamed the streets in large numbers, proving quite the obstacle to the lone traveler. Before they noticed my presence, I watched them stand idly by, no doubt waiting for an unsuspecting victim to cross their path. Produced in large numbers, I can imagine the usefulness of these particular creatures, but their lack of motivation and all-around fragile bodies hinder their chances at being substantially useful in warfare situations. Their actions are fairly predictable, allowing me to dispatch smaller groups of them in close quarter combat.

This brings me to my next observation. Unlike some past accounts, the Zombies that roam Raccoon City do not seem to rise again when defeated, failing to achieve the state of becoming a Crimson Head. However, it is important to note that, in later observations, I would come across the entities we have deemed as Lickers. It should be known that Lickers are a stage above the Crimson Head in the mutation process, meaning that even though Zombies show no signs of further mutation upon defeat, they must, at some point or another, continue their development. Whether or not this means that the virus in Raccoon City has become more selective in which entities continue up the mutation scale will have to be left for future analysis.

Upon retrieving a blood sample from one of the Zombies, I decided to continue my mission elsewhere in hopes of locating some other prey. During my travels from the drop-off point, I encountered and dispatched a group of three survivors. In time, I made my way to a series of alleyways around a local bar where I located a new specimen.

As we expected, the Plague Crawlers had made their way into Raccoon City. Since it was already established that these giant insects fail to meet combat requirements due to their simplistic mentalities, I need not go into how I managed to kill the group I encountered and retrieved a sample of their blood. I will note, however, that they do seem to be somewhat rare and it is my belief that following the downfall of Raccoon City, this particular B.O.W. will finally become extinct.

My travels later brought me to a pack of Cerberuses as they cornered two would-be survivors. The individuals, faced with certain death, asked me to assist them as I entered the alley. I shot them and then killed the Cerberuses as most of the infected dogs busied themselves with the fresh, recently killed meat. I'd like to note that aside from their decaying bodies, I would compare the Cerberus much to a wolf. They seem to show a degree of planning and ruthlessness as they attack their prey, without much of a doubt boasting some strength increase from their living, uninfected counterparts.

As a side note, I have encountered infected crows during my mission. For the most part, it appeared as if they were content with simply watching me as I traversed the city. The only times they built enough courage to attack me was when they had rather large numbers or when I stumbled across a situation that seemed to push the odds against me. This makes me wonder if they, like the Cerberuses, don't retain a sense of skillful hunting instinct, the likes of which making their presence more troublesome than one might initially think.

At the end of my first day in Raccoon City, I managed to stumble across a small shelter inhabited by a group of five survivors. They welcomed me in with open arms, obviously thankful to have another in their ranks. Shortly after I entered their makeshift shelter did I commence to kill them off, one by one. After disposing of their bodies, I used their shelter for the rest of the night, intent on continuing my run through of the city in the morning.

Come morning, I awoke to find that one of my targets came to me. A Licker broke through one of the shelter's windows. Despite having seen these creatures before, I still found the sight of its skinless body somewhat unnerving. Without a doubt, these particular B.O.W.s have combat potential. As known already, their major downfall is their lack of sight, but from experience, I know that their sense of hearing more than makes up for that deficiency. They are skillful killing machines, not all too unlike Hunters.

After killing the Licker and claiming a sample of its blood as my prize, I now set my sights on finding other specimen. I believe it best for me to seek out a dark location in order to find the creatures we refer to as Drain Deimos. Seeing as how our only information to go on about these accidental byproducts of the outbreak are some sparse, firsthand accounts by some of the mercenaries, data obtained on these particular creatures could prove to be very valuable to the organization.

The file ended there, leaving Veronica to believe that Muguil wrote that entry before he left the shelter and ended up in the apartment building. By the time she finished reading, Kyle had fallen asleep. Her body craved the relaxing nourishment of drifting into unconsciousness for a few hours, but her curiosity wanted more. She spent the next half an hour combing through Muguil's laptop until, finally, she found that she could no longer resist the allure of sleep.


	26. Part 25

"Wow, can't say I really envy you boys," the pilot spoke to the passengers, her voice just barely managing to make it over the loud, ever-present hum of the helicopter's rotor "It looks pretty shitty down there."

Three men dressed in similar, solid grey battle uniforms sat in the back of the small helicopter. The only light entered from the front windshield, doing little to allow anything except shadows to mask the further corners of the large machine's interiors. Only a few, select pieces of equipment had been loaded into the helicopter, namely each agent's choice weapons, some first aid supplies, additional ammunition and a few rations. For the most part, the roar of the helicopter's engines and rotor filled in the empty void left by everyone's apparent reluctance to speak, except for the pilot who only ever fell silent due to lack of any interest on the others' parts in joining her conversation.

Finally, they reached their destination and the pilot landed the helicopter on to the roof of Umbrella's Business Bureau, one of the few impressively tall buildings of Raccoon City's downtown district. A deep thud vibrated throughout the cargo-passenger hull of the helicopter when it made contact with the landing pad. Slowly, the familiar hum of the rotor dissipated, leaving the haunting city sounds to take its place. It would only be a matter of time before the lifeless moans of the undead and the whistle of the wind became the new music that filled every waking moment of the squad's existence.

"That's it," Patricia threw off her helmet after the helicopter finally settled down. "Try not to get yourselves killed out there. I'd hate to have to explain that to HQ." She kicked back in her seat, resting her feet on top of the control panel as if it were not a delicate, expensive piece of equipment. With a laugh, she added, "Then again, I really doubt that'll happen. Ain't that right, Tiger?"

The squad captain stood up without a word, opened the hatch at the side of the helicopter and stepped outside. It didn't take long for the other two agents to grab their equipment and follow suit, only to be stopped by the pilot.

"Really boys. Don't get yourselves killed. Especially not you, handsome." She didn't even turn around as she mentioned that last bit, leaving the two remaining squad members to decide between themselves as to who she had addressed. Of course, the last person out of the helicopter, Damien, couldn't help but feel as if there was little more than sarcasm and teasing behind Patricia's last words. He turned around just in time to watch her start to close the hatch, flashing him a quick wink before a door of metal sealed shut and cut them off from each other.

Standing on top of the building, each Umbrella agent wore a grey gasmask, the eyes of which were tinted in a red color. Apart from their particular builds, each agent looked nearly indistinguishable from the other. Damien carried a combat shotgun, capable of firing at speeds otherwise unimaginable for a shotgun while the other member of the squad, Frederick, held an assault rifle, as if just waiting for something worth shooting to materialize in front of him. Lastly, the squad leader, Billy, carried only a metallic sword hilt, the handle of which proved to be fairly thick and adorned with two distinct buttons.

"Somewhere my Prospero hides…" The leader spoke out, his mask doing well enough to distort and muffle his cold voice. "Do you worry? Are you afraid? Do you fear the redness and horrors of blood?"

"Sir?" Frederick asked, his youthful uneasiness showing in the uncertainty fortifying the sound of his voice.

"Come," he commanded, walking towards the door that led into the building. "We have a mission to accomplish."

It wasn't long before they left the overbearing, grey skies that ruled the air above Raccoon City and entered the building. The destruction and desolation became apparent as soon as they entered the first mainstream hallway of the interiors. Several overhanging lights had been broken, glass littering the floor like randomly placed caltrops. A few of the lights continued to keep away the shadows, flickering every now and then as if they were on their last legs of life. Of course, such interior damage did little to compare to the collage of blood spewed against the walls. Several severed, mutilated body parts were scattered across the floor along with the glass shards.

"They were right," Damien began, taking quick note of the gore. Through his services with Umbrella, such gruesome sights failed to disturb him as much as they used to, but he knew the initial feeling of shock and unease would never fully disappear. "This place is hell."

While Billy began leading the way down the hall, obviously unconcerned about his comrades' feelings about the setting, Frederick stepped besides Damien. "What could have done this?"

Damien slung his shotgun over his shoulder. "A lot of different things. You're new, aren't you?" He only asked because he thought it odd that Frederick hadn't been well acquainted with some of the creatures synonymous with Umbrella.

"I've seen some fucked up things, if that's what you mean…" He trailed off for a moment, glancing once more to the gore-ridden floor. "But this is still pretty sick."

From the far end of the hall, standing right before a large, open doorway, Billy called over his shoulder, "Turn around and look up if you want to continue living." That said, he continued into the room and out of sight.

Frederick looked at Damien, obviously confused by Billy's strange warning. On the other hand, Damien began to turn around just in time to watch the skinless beast known as a Licker fall from the ceiling and land on all fours. Immediately, the creature shot out its long tongue, wrapping it around Frederick's neck. After that, a quick series of loud gunshots ceased the creature's movements, entirely obliterating large portions of its body. Wasting little time, Damien reloaded his shotgun and Frederick threw the now limp tongue on to the ground.

"You alright?" Damien asked his comrade who could do little more than stare at the mutilated body of the creature.

"Y-yea…" He shook his head. "I hate being caught off guard."

The two began to walk down the hall to rejoin their squad leader. "To be fair, Billy did warn you."

Wasting little time, Frederick responded, "I know… What's up with that guy, anyways?"

"You mean, why does he seem so weird?" Damien had considered the exact same question when he first encountered Billy. In fact, he was quite unnerved when he heard that he would be going on a mission with him. "I've heard he's been through a lot with Umbrella, doing a considerable amount of field work for the corporation since he was established as an agent. Some say he's one of two individuals to survive so many missions."

"Really? I suppose it's lucky we have him on our side."

"I suppose." The two reached the open doorway at the end of the hall, leading right into a large cafeteria. The only sight, aside from over turned tables and chairs, was that of the decimated corpses of various Umbrella personnel. "I've heard rumors that he's more like a killing machine than anything else; a man who's been scarred by death too many times to be affected by much of anything these days. Others claim he's just a sociopath who joined the UBCS unit in order to fill some desire for violence, since the military claimed he was too mentally unstable to enlist." He took a moment to let that thought sink in for Frederick as the two walked into another hallway in pursuit of Billy. "Some even jokingly claim that he's an experiment finally gone right for Umbrella."

"And what do you think?" Frederick asked after a moment of silent walking, just as the two turned a corner to approach a flight of stairs. At the landing below stood Billy, the decaying body of a headless zombie lying at his feet.

Without taking any notice of Damien and Frederick, Billy continued down the stairs.

"I don't know what to think." The two UBCS agents began to make their way down to the next floor. "But I do know that he really creeps me out." Still, he supposed Frederick was right. They were lucky to have him on their side, given his track record.

It took a few minutes of walking to reach their destination. Even though stillness seemed to have become the sole inhabitant of the building, every now and then Damien would feel something lurking behind the walls and within the shadows. The blood that painted the walls in various sections and pooled on certain landings of the stairwell were an ever-present reminder to the nightmares that had become reality within that building.

What conversation the two Umbrella agents had begun ceased as soon as they reached the computer lab on the fifteenth floor. What used to be rows of computer tables had become little more than a chaotic mess of broken electronics coated with the entrails of the previously living. It took a considerable amount of willpower for Damien to prevent himself from gagging, something that Frederick failed to accomplish. Billy, obviously unaffected by the sight, stood a few feet into the room, his sword hilt in hand. In the center of the room, a five-foot tall, reptilian creature stood with its attention focused on the UBCS agent. Looking more like some bastardized cocktail of a human and a lizard, this monster's arms ended in large, blood stained claws, begging to take the life of another victim. Even as the creature began to charge Billy, Damien and Frederick did little more but marvel at the speed and swiftness of its movements.

"Hunter…" Damien muttered, as if reading Frederick's thoughts as to what that creature was called.

The reptilian monstrosity leapt through the air, pulling one arm back in order to ready itself to tear Billy's head clean off. In an act of agility that nearly matched the grace of the unnatural beast, Billy dashed towards it, swinging his sword hilt through the air. With the press of a button, a blade extended from the hilt just in time to sever the creature's arm from its body. The Hunter had no choice but to plummet to the ground. Even though it quickly returned to its feet, far too stubborn to accept defeat, its fate had already been sealed. Billy rested his blade on his shoulder, aiming the end of the handle at the creature. Pressing the second button shot a bullet from his weapon, destroying the creature's face, finally ending its existence.

The blade retreated into the hilt of Billy's weapon and he turned his attention away from the defeated monster, entirely uncaring that his comrades did nothing to aid him. Damien and Frederick could only watch in awe as Billy continued to search the room for the disk they had been sent to retrieve. It only took a few moments of rummaging through the debris in the room before he uncovered the object, immediately walking to, and past, the other agents without a single word.

Damien heard Frederick mutter, "Killing machine…" before the two of them managed to get over the awe inspired by Billy's display of combat mastery and follow him back to the roof.

Part one of their mission had been completed.


	27. Part 26

The darkness once again became her patron, for even if the moon wished to bless her miserable existence with its light, the clouds would not follow. They masked her existence from the heavens in an attempt to keep all that surrounded her, everything hidden inside her by flesh and bone, oblivious to the gods. Damned was she to walk amidst the underworld, letting the madness of gore replace the liquors in all that urged her body to move and she felt this transgression, felt the poison drain away her life like a searing flame until only the ash of her prior existence remained. Despite her waning mind, she realized how far she had fallen. Suicide would have been a fitting escape, but she had already died.

Veronica walked towards the small, familiar light that shone off in the distance, like a lighthouse to a ship lost at sea. What else could she do but walk towards it? Surely, the night had already consumed her, allowing her to travel under its guise wherever and whenever she pleased, but pleasing fell to aimlessness as instinct was all to drive her desires. Blood dripped in a constant stream from the edge of her knife, the weapon dangling ever so gently between the grip of her fingers and the surface of her quivering palm. It became an extension of her being. If it fell to the ground, she would go break. If it remained in her grasp, she would break.

The world passed her by as she walked towards her light, each step taken bringing her no closer to her destination. Instead, the light came to her as if she were not the one drawn to it, but the other way around. It grew from but a spec to only an orb the size of a skull, dangling in the air like a swelled body hanging from the limb of a tree. Veronica stepped beneath its tragic light and it flickered out. Moments passed shrouded in blindness before the strangled light kicked back to life.

Now basking in the unfamiliar glow of light, Veronica felt warm. A faint dripping entered the still air. It took her a moment to notice the droplets of blood dripping from her chin to small puddle between her feet. Her cheek burned. When she looked at her hands, she noticed deep gashes in her palms, bleeding down her fingertips. It wasn't the blood of others she had taken security within, but rather it was her own blood that ran down the blade. Her clothing resembled little more than bleeding flesh clinging to her body, her hair having long been lost of its natural, brunette glory, dyed with the dark, redness of blood.

The light flickered off again, no doubt finally succumbing to the noose around its throat.

As the dim light entered the world of night once more, two forms stood beyond its reach. One form resembled that of a man, the other that of a young boy. Both were mere voids in the shadow cast down over the world, containing neither light nor dark. They were absent abysses, animate nothingness with their attentions focused directly on the bloody, distraught woman standing in the spotlight of the dying lamp. They examined her like a piece of meat, like an animal behind a cage. Oddly, disturbingly, it felt fitting.

All of the air escaped her lungs, never to return, when a voice called out, "I LOVE watching things DIE, don't you?" His words echoed off absolutely nothing and drilled into her skull like a disturbing lesson taught to a child by a deranged parent. "The way blood glistens from the blade; how it gushes from the tears and holes I leave in the flesh of my victims…" He began to laugh and it was only then that Veronica realized his words hadn't been directed to her, instead proving only dictation to keep her insanity company. "It's fun to watch their rotten skulls squish beneath my boot. It's pure poetry to see a man clutch the gash across his throat and submit to a slow, painful death. Do you think he'd cry if he wasn't drowning in blood?" He laughed again and the wounds on Veronica's hands burrowed deeper, sending more blood to gush down her fingers and blade. "Don't you just LOVE how WARM blood feels against your SKIN? What about the delicious smell of freshly fallen blood? Don't you love how sweet and salty it tastes?"

The male figure began to chuckle, his laughter fading into the background, but never fading from perception. The form of the boy began to speak, his voice just barely managing to penetrate the wall of insanity the man's laughter had created. "Ronnie! Calm down, it's okay. You have to pull yourself together!" Long scratches ran up from her wrists to her shoulders, adding more to the waterfall of blood falling from her body. "You don't enjoy killing. You don't. It's so sickening and wrong… You hate the sight of blood and can't stand how it feels against your skin!"

The laughter abruptly cut off and the male figure turned to the child. He spoke, but his voice changed and emulated Veronica's. "Go ahead. Taste the blood like the monster I am."

"No! No! I just want to run away!" The boy took over her voice as well.

"I'd cut myself just to watch something bleed."

"I hate this pain… It's so cold."

"I love this feeling! It makes my skin burn!"

"Please… I just want to go home…"

"I am home! This is where I belong!"

"Need to… need to run… away…"

The male figure turned towards Veronica, speaking with the voice he used before. "Come on, Veronica. Kill me. I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes!" He laughed and the void that surrounded his form began to approach her. The light flickered out, leaving her stranded and utterly alone. "Fill your lust like the greedy little bitch you are. You want to see me gasp for air, don't you? Then slit my throat. Or maybe you should just jam that pretty knife of yours into my forehead." He paused. "Go ahead! DO IT!"

The voice of the young boy returned to the air, somehow saving Veronica from combusting under the domineering presence of her previous verbal assailant. "Come on Veronica! Just run! We can get out of here! It's not too far. Just drop the knife and let's go! I don't want to be here anymore…"

"Kill me!" the male figure commanded.

"I'm scared!" the boy yelled.

"DO IT! KILL ME!" the man screamed.

"I-I CAN'T!" the boy cried.

Forcing through the searing pain that seized every muscle in her body, Veronica forced her hands closed, gripping the handle of her knife as if she were attempting to crush it. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"

Both voices immediately ceased. Veronica looked up into the boundless, black sky. Her eyes began to bleed.

Annoyed, the male figured turned and dissipated. "Pussy."

The boy started to cry, his last words lingering until he vanished, replaced with the same bitter darkness that enveloped the rest of the world. "What's… what's wrong with you?"

Veronica stood still. When she removed her gaze from the sky to see if the specters that haunted her were still around, blood began to seep from her ears. Soon, nothing but the vile smell of blood filled her nostrils as the liquid ran down her lips.

"I… I don't know what's wrong with me…" She had to scream, but blood filled her throat. The dying light turned on for one last performance, revealing the boundless, dark red pool of blood that had formed around Veronica's feet. Slowly, she began to sink into its depths, struggling as the vortex took away her knees. Something grabbed her ankle and began to drag her into the underworld. Desperation seized her muscles and she clawed at the ground in a pitiful attempt to free herself. Soon, the blood level reached the base of her neck and she tried to keep her head from submerging into the warm, comforting embrace of the puddle.

For a brief second, the suction ceased and everything froze.

She had just enough time to spew the blood from her throat and scream out Kyle's name before being pulled in the abyss.


	28. Part 27

**SEPTEMBER 29**  
_DELUSIONS_

Veronica woke up gasping for air, covered in beads of cold sweat. It took her a moment to assure herself that she had left her nightmares behind and that nothing would emerge from the few remaining shadows within the motel room. At first, she mistook the sweat on her body for blood, but it lacked its usual disturbing warmth and comfortable-discomfort. Still, she wished that she had some sort of alternate clothing to change into so that she could discard her current sweaty, ill fitting, partially blood stained mercenary outfit.

As she retreated to the bathroom, wanting little more than to rid herself of the plague left upon her flesh from her nightmare, Veronica noted Kyle still sleeping on the floor. It appeared as if his sleep allowed him to push aside memories of the hell that surrounded him, leaving Veronica to long for the ability to do the same. It didn't seem fair that he could find refuge in unconsciousness while all she found were more haunting nightmares waiting to crush her already confused psyche.

Cold water splashed over her face allowed her to, for a brief moment, push aside such thoughts and relish within the abrupt chill that run across her skin. She stuck her head underneath the faucet, running the cool water through her hair before squeezing it partially dry. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked up at herself in the mirror. Try as she might to find the inhuman creature lurking beneath her flesh, Veronica saw nothing except herself staring back her, just as empty and fragile looking as any other person. Defeated in her attempt to draw her disease to the surface, she left the bathroom to fetch the few hygiene products that Kyle or Kathy had stuck into the backpack days prior. If she couldn't clean the stain from her soul, she could at least make herself feel better by masking it.

"I had a dream just like this," Kyle said as he stepped in the bathroom doorway, "except that you were about 100% more naked and the living dead were not waiting outside for us to join a crazy, cannibalistic mosh pit, which coincidentally was the name of my high school heavy metal band. Crazy Cannibalistic Mosh Pit."

Doubting the existence of a band with such a stupid name, Veronica spat a mouthful of toothpaste and spit into the sink, afterwards wiping her mouth along the back of her hand. "You could have knocked…" If she hadn't been still trying to struggle away from the heaviness leftover from her nightmare, she probably would have made some cold retort to Kyle's comment about her being nude.

"And you could have shut the door to keep out unwanted visitors like myself."

"I thought you were sleeping." She stuffed the small assortment of products she had used to make her skin and hair feel slightly more bearable back into a small pouch.

"Whatever," Kyle walked into the bathroom, over to the toilet. "I really need to take a leak though, so you can either stay for the show or-"

Veronica turned and began to walk away, her sharp wittiness having found its way back to her tongue. "No thanks. I have bad vision and it's hard for me to make out really small objects."

"Who knows? You could be pleasantly surprised!"

Veronica simply groaned and shut the door behind her. Some streaks of daylight crossed from the parts of the window not obscured by the mattress pressed against it. They allowed Veronica, for however briefly, to imagine that everything prior to that moment had simply been part of a bad nightmare. She pictured Raccoon City busy with its usual, daily motions under the presence of a perfect early-Fall day, without all the vile monstrosities that could have only ever existed in someone's worst dreams. Part of her desperately wanted to believe that, but she knew that she couldn't.

Kneeling besides the backpack, she stuffed away her pouch of hygiene products, assuming that Kyle wouldn't even bother grooming himself much that morning. It was only after securing her belongings back to her person that her attention fell back to Muguil's laptop sitting like a gigantic paperweight atop his closed briefcase. Knowing that carrying around a briefcase as well as all her equipment would only continue to slow her down, she made the decision to stuff the laptop into her backpack, removing a bottle of water, their last bit of food and a few boxes of ammunition in order to get it to fit. Veronica would have opted to discard the pouch of hygiene products, but she couldn't entertain the thought of being without anything capable of, at the very least, reducing the pungent smell the city constantly painted upon her being.

All in all, securing the laptop was a necessary step in order to fulfill her craving for vengeance. If Umbrella were responsible for the entire Raccoon City disaster, she would see them pay for every little bit of trouble and hardship she had gone through, regardless of what it would take to achieve such a goal.

Chugging half of the bottle of water and cramming two of the remaining energy bars down her throat, Veronica left the rest for Kyle. She replaced what ammunition she could in her vest pockets before leaving the remainder out on the floor. That left them with two full bottles of water and enough ammunition to, at the very least, keep them safe if they continued to avoid running headfirst into danger.

Kyle came back into the room as Veronica finished putting everything together. He walked over to her, snatching the bottle of water from the floor. After taking a considerable drink, he asked, "So, is there a reason most of our provisions are thrown about on the floor, or..?"

"I need to bring the laptop with us." Veronica stood up and faced her companion, fully suited for the day of traveling they had ahead of them. "This is all Umbrella's fault."

Kyle grinned and sucked down the rest of the water. "You mean those mercenaries who tried to kill us worked for the bad guys!?" He smacked his forehead. "Ah! Who would have thought?"

"Stop being such a dumbass." She shook her head, hating to think how little Kyle cared about the importance of the information she found through Muguil's computer. "This entire thing is their fault… They've been working on bioorganic weapons for years now, experimenting with shit that no one should toy around with. This city's just an accident and you know what it all means to them?" She began to remove the mattress from covering up the window, anxious to get a look at the state of the nearby vicinity to see how difficult their departure from the motel would be.

Kyle wasted little time in giving her a hand, responding to her question with, "I'm sure there's some executive going, 'Holy shit! Sweet! We created a goddamn ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! Everyone, ready your chainsaws and boomsticks!'"

Veronica let out a short, cold laugh as the mattress fell to the floor with an empty thud. "Probably. They're still fucking researching while people like us are out here just trying to stay alive. They don't give a shit, you know? Not a single fucking care and it pisses ME off that I have to go through all of this because some crazy BASTARDS wanted to play god!"

"Woah, calm down." Kyle forced an uneasy smile as he took a step towards Veronica.

Of course, she could barely refrain from punching a hole through a wall and his attempt at comfort did about as good as someone trying to set water on fire with a couple of sticks. "I'm going to make them sorry… I promise they're going to pay for this…" It wasn't fair that hell had been brought to earth because of some corporate screw up and they weren't even the slightest bit concerned about the people left to fend through it, sending mercenaries not to help but to collect more research data and kill any would be witnesses of the catastrophe.

Kyle placed a hand on Veronica's arm. "Right, but we need to make it out of here first and then we'll see about ruining the reputation of a global pharmaceutical company. Priorities, priorities." With that, he went to finish up the last of the energy bars.

Veronica did little else but let her anger rage inside her until Kyle was finally ready to leave the motel. To her, it felt as if she had just found out the identity of the individual who had killed her family in cold blood and she wanted little more than to see him pay with his own. It was only after leaving the room behind that her mind switched itself into survival mode, leaving thoughts of Umbrella to fester in the background as even more fuel to motivate her survival. Still, even walking back onto the ruined streets of the city, Veronica couldn't shake the notion that she had just become part of something so much larger than herself. Glancing towards Kyle, she knew that he was still just a survivor trying to escape with his life, the tone of doubt in his voice about doing damage to Umbrella's reputation acting as all Veronica needed to hear to understand his concerns in the situation. It even led her to doubt her own ambitions, that maybe such a goal was truly beyond her capabilities and whatever it was that had started to tear apart her mind left her irrational desire for revenge to take hold.

A few scattered crows lingered on telephone lines and roof ledges above, leading Veronica to wonder if the flock that had chased her and Kyle the day before hadn't left behind a few scouts to track their movements. The infected birds sounded off in an odd choir of caws as the two survivors took to their journey once more. In the end, that was all the crows did before flying off to parts unknown. Even out of sight, however, their haunting song remained ever present in the air.

The highway seemed so distant, but somehow attainable, as if they simply pushed themselves hard enough, they could escape the city come nightfall. Perhaps the feeling was, in part, due to their intense desire to leave behind the madness and decay of Raccoon City, their minds focusing on the possibility of escape in a way to keep driving their bodies onward.

Hours passed winding through the fallen city's unnatural mazes. Veronica would have paid more attention to Kyle if thoughts about what she had read on Muguil's computer the night before didn't continue to plague her mind. She found it too difficult to bring herself completely away from thoughts of Umbrella, how easily it seemed that they found it to tamper with the forces of nature and create demons only in order to claim a stake in the field of war.

Without much of a warning, something leapt from the wreckage at the side of the road as if it had been waiting there for some sort of prey to pass by and took Veronica to the ground. Before she realized what had happened, a large dog had pounced on top of her. It took everything she had to keep its foaming jaw from tearing into her throat. Luckily enough, however, the entire instance didn't last long at all as a loud gunshot rang out into the air, sending the zombified canine flying off Veronica. Its rotten flesh and blood dried fur disintegrated and gave way to a large hole in its side from Kyle's shotgun.

Just as Veronica got to her feet, ready to offer some form of thanks for his assistance, she saw Kyle be knocked to the ground by a second Cerberus. The rabid, undead dog had Kyle's shotgun in its mouth, struggling to bite through the metal in order to reach fresh meat, instantly provoking some flashbacks to a couple days prior. Without considering Kyle's safety in the matter, Veronica drew her handguns and fired them into the creature. Several bullets later and its body fell limp, allowing Kyle to kick it off to the side so that it could finally rejoin with death.

Because the city apparently hated both of them so much, as soon Kyle sat up, a third undead dog leapt over him and charged at Veronica, leaping into the air a second time in order to take her down. As thoughts had faded from her consciousness, her body now moving on sheer instinct alone, Veronica let go of her handguns, slid her knife from its sheath and pulled her right arm over to the left side of her body. Pressing her left hand against the bottom of the blade's handle, she quickly jammed the knife into the side of Cerberus' skull, sending it sprawling to the ground off to her side. The dog attempted to push beyond the grasps of death for a second time in its existence only to have Veronica press the bottom of her shoe against its throat and squeeze the rest of the life out of it.

After that display of killing efficacy, Veronica went to retrieve her handguns. Kyle would have said something if the sound of nails rapidly tapping against the ground hadn't cut him off. Two more large, disfigured dogs jumped over some of the wrecked cars that lined the road to the center of the street in order to face off against Veronica and Kyle. Another one dashed out from a nearby alley, tearing through one of the few wandering zombies in the area on its way to join the hunt. Of course, Veronica was more than willing to oblige her undead opponents if they wished to face her, readying herself to send a flurry of bullets in their direction, but Kyle took hold of her arm and began to pull her away from the threat.

"Ronnie, we need to get moving!" Two more dogs ran up from the sides to create a half circle in front of the two survivors.

Veronica, having lost herself to the heat of the moment, tugged her arm free. "I'm so sick of FUCKING RUNNING!"

Without hesitating, Kyle took hold of her once more. "You'll have all the time in the world to abuse undead animals as long as we start running right now!"

Three barks echoed through the air from behind the two survivors and Kyle managed to duck just in time to avoid having another of the Cerberuses gash out his throat. The same, however, couldn't be said for the animate corpse of the dog whose neck met Veronica's new wrist blade. She cried out as she spun around, jamming her newfound weapon into the dog's throat before it hit the ground. The creature let out a weak yelp and the others, as if they were merely waiting for the signal, began to charge.

"Come on!" Kyle screamed, returning to his feet. He snatched Veronica once more.

Watching the pack of rabid dogs charge at her, only one thought flowed through Veronica's mind. She wanted her knives covered in their blood. She wanted to match their lust for flesh with her desire to see them bleed. If Kyle hadn't been so persistent in pulling her away from a fight that would have surely ended with her torn to shreds, she might have given in to that desire.

Her wrist blade retracted back into its sheath and Veronica began to retreat. The two survivors dashed down the street, hearing the sounds of the undead dogs following in close pursuit, barking and growling as if the mere sight of a decaying, animate dog wasn't enough to put fear into anyone's spine. If it had been a straight run, the Cerberuses would have caught up to them, but luckily the various obstacles in the road proved to be enough to keep Veronica and Kyle out of their jaws just long enough for the two survivors to find refuge behind the walls of a small corner gas station.

A chime rang out as they dashed through the door, as if anyone cared anymore about people entering the station. Wasting no time, Kyle began to push one of the few snack food shelves against the door, a task that Veronica joined in with as soon as she had enough time to wrap her mind around everything that had transpired. The Cerberuses continued to howl and bark from outside, scratching at the door. It didn't take long for Veronica to note that windows, imagining the body of one of the dogs flying through at any given moment.

"We need to get out of here," she stated, searching the room for some sort of back exit, finally more than content on simply preserving her life as opposed seeking to face off against the creatures. What she found was a door leading to a small hallway that went further into the station to some sort of employee lounge, a small room boasting of nothing more than a couch and an old-timey television. No sooner did she take notice of that than she found herself and Kyle barricaded further into the shop.

The two survivors waited in silence for the sound of glass breaking to come from the front of the station. After what could have been described as some of the longest minutes of her lifetime, it became apparent that the threat passed. All that remained was for them to gather enough courage to head outside once more.

Kyle pushed away from the door, where he had been listening for any signs of movement from within the front of the station. "Alright," these were his first words since he last yelled at Veronica to run. "I'm not going to lie. That was pretty badass."

"I… don't know what you're talking about." Veronica closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall she used to keep herself upright, doing what she could to push away the effects of her latest adrenaline rush.

Kyle walked over to her, apparently no longer concerned about the dogs that had chased them. "Don't play coy, you know! You're a fucking ninja, what with the whole massive killing thing and stabby-stabby." He made a couple of crude stabbing gestures, as if Veronica certainly did not have the mental capacity to understand what 'stabby-stabby' meant.

"Oh, I get it." Veronica groaned, lowering her head. She wondered why he couldn't just continue to ignore the things she found herself doing instead of forcing her to face how completely unstable she had become. Really, she could only rely on a backdrop of annoyance and anger to cover up her deep fear of utter uncertainty. "It's because I'm a girl, isn't it? I shouldn't be able to take care of myself, huh? Well, I got news for you, asshole-"

"No! No, I just… ah…" Kyle shook his head, sporting a now uncomfortable grin. "I just never thought people were capable of moving like you do."

Veronica found it increasingly harder to breathe, forcing herself to lift her head and meet Kyle's gaze. She didn't want to, couldn't stand to, think about it anymore. "So now what? I'm not human? What am I? An alien? Just what the hell is your problem, anyways? Can't you just leave me the fuck alone?"

"I didn't mean that!" He waved his hands in front of himself, as if to push away all the apparent misunderstandings in the air.

"Stop staring at me like that!" Veronica yelled, pushing away from the wall to close the distance between them in some sort of an attempt to intimidate him away from the topic. "You son of a bitch!" If she had taken a moment to reflect on why she had become so angry, Veronica would have realized that it really wasn't Kyle's fault, but it was too late for such reflectance. The damage had been done and like a helpless mouse forced in the corner by a cat, she had no choice but to fight back in order to avoid facing her true fears.

"Woah, listen-"

His words made no difference. In the next moment, Veronica had him by the collar of his shirt, yelling obscenities in some sort of attempt to demean him and possibly make him feel as frightened as she felt on the inside. The two struggled for a moment, Kyle trying to pry away Veronica's grip on his shirt. Eventually, the struggle turned into more of a pseudo-dance around the room as they bickered like a couple of schoolchildren fighting during recess. For whatever reason, the city seemed to have decided to let them have their moment away from its horrors, most likely only to lull them into a false sense of security and hit them much harder later on.

Kyle eventually stopped struggling and Veronica took him to the ground, pinning him down with little more than feral rage hiding behind her eyes. "I'm going to kill you!"

Kyle put up a faint struggle. "If you weren't such a bitch, I'd find this really arousing."

Veronica's eyes went wide. "What!? What the hell did you just say?"

"I… uh…. It wasn't me?" He offered a wide, innocent smile.

"We're the only two fucking people here!"

"So we are." Kyle, by this point, had completely given up trying to shove Veronica off. "Would it help at all if I said that you were the most gorgeous girl to hold me like this for a couple of days?

"You're…" Veronica glared at the man. "You're an idiot."

Having the apparent mentality of an eight year old, Kyle stuck his tongue out. "I should scream, 'rape.'"

"And I should tear it off."

Kyle played into her words and cringed. "Why would you want to do something like that? You won't be able to sleep with me then."

"Yea? Keep dreaming."

"Well, you're already about halfway there…"

Veronica sat up, shut her eyes and lowered her head, exhaling her anger in one long, drawn out sigh. "I hate you, Kyle. I hate you so goddamn much."

Of course, he laughed, obviously finding some enjoyment in her apparent frustration. "Yet you're still straddling me. I certainly hope you don't do this with everyone you hate."

"Now you're calling me a slut? Fan-fucking-tastic." She stood up. "I'm leaving."

"Wait!" Kyle cried as he got up to follow. "You… You're smiling!"

"I am not. Shut the hell up." She kept her back to him, planting her face in the palm of her right hand in order to do what she could to keep her frustration from exploding from her skull in a giant ball of fire.

"But, I saw it!" He ran up beside her and tried to peak through her hand to see her mouth. "I know what I saw. See, right there…"

Kyle pointed towards her mouth and when she removed her hand from her face, all that remained was a terribly frightening scowl aimed directly toward him. For a short time, she had gotten to understand firsthand how Kyle's attitude allowed him to avoid letting the city overwhelm his spirit. It seemed too perfect to think that she had forgotten about the mess she was in, about Umbrella and the issue with her waning sanity. She hated to think that he was right, hated to imagine that he could manage to make her forget about all that. In the end, she would never admit that he was right.


	29. Part 28

The two survivors left the gas station, leaving all that happened inside to stay as an unspoken memory. Veronica flat out refused to acknowledge Kyle's words following their departure until he finally stopped talking. It wasn't so much resent that she held for him, as somehow she knew that she had no reason to hate him at that particular moment. Instead, she simply wanted to avoid bringing unwanted thoughts to the surface of her mind, absolutely hating herself for finding any semblance of comfort in his company. Even more, Veronica knew his interest in her displays of madness and blood lust remained and she couldn't bear to face his answerless questions.

The city had once again taken its toll on Veronica's appearance. Even all the care she put into making herself look and feel somewhat clean that morning had gone to waste mere hours upon leaving the motel. Her hair felt slimy with either sweat or blood and her clothing fared no better. Several tears ran across various sections of her shirt and pants, leaving them partially tattered. The bloody memories of her encounters with Death stained the fabric over her skin like inorganic scars. More so, even though the pain had long since faded, Veronica still boasted a few cuts and scrapes that almost seemed as if they would adhere to her flesh for all eternity.

Kyle had his share of minor injuries, though over all it seemed as if he had gotten off quite easy as compared to Veronica. She knew that the blood on his clothes didn't bother him half as much as the blood on her clothing did to her. In fact, nothing about what the city had done to him seemed to affect him all that much. Perhaps that was because of his drive to survive or because he chose not to think too much into it, having developed some mental barrier from the insanity that she felt consuming her. Veronica wished that she had the capability to do the same, but every drop of blood that fell by or from her only served to drill more so into her consciousness, forcing her never to let go of her discomfort.

In an odd way, Veronica noticed that her knife had started to take on a faint, red tint. Regardless of how often she tried to clean the blade against her clothing, the emerald green remained masked by the color of blood. Somehow, it seemed like her knife had begun to devour all the blood it spilled, all the damned lives it took, and the stains served as penance for its sins. Looking at the knife amounted to little more than reminding her of her own fall into blood lust. After letting the image of the bloodstained knife linger in her sight long enough for her to imagine her soul looking no different, she slipped it back into its sheath.

The creatures within Raccoon City began to stir as the two survivors continued their way towards the highway, crows once again starting to caw from their perches. They noticed an increase in zombie activity the more they traveled, to the point where staying on the main roads proved near suicidal. On more than one occasion, Veronica and Kyle found themselves in the center of an inexplicable zombie trap as the undead emerged from various nooks and crannies of the street's carnage as if their mindless bodies somehow organized a tactical ambush. Quick thinking and action, as well as a considerable expenditure of ammunition, allowed them to avoid a terrible death, but in the end, they had no option but to move their travels to the considerably slower side and back streets.

"Hey Ronnie," Kyle began after eyeing over a van that had crashed into a telephone pole, the bodies of a family still inside, rotting like leftovers in tupperware containers.

Without giving it much thought, Veronica grunted in some feeble way of showing her companion that she was, at least partially, listening.

"What would you be doing right now if all of this hadn't happened?"

She thought it over a moment and considered not even responding to him. It wasn't as if her past life really mattered anymore. "Sleeping, probably."

"Not exactly a morning person, huh?" In all honesty, she didn't have a clue as to the current time. "I take it you had a night job or something?"

That point proved to be the extent to which Veronica felt like sharing information on herself. She remained silent, an occurrence that by then Kyle must have gotten used to.

"You know what I'd be doing right now?" Of course, she didn't bother with a guess and after a brief couple of seconds, Kyle continued. "I'd be sitting in my friend Jimmy's recliner, eating a turkey sub and watching soft core pornography on his T.V. Now, before you tell me I'm a tasteless, despicable pervert, you need to know that Jimmy pretty much only has pornography to watch on his television, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stare at a blank screen while eating my turkey sub. No man should ever be forced to eat turkey without something to watch."

"Kyle," Veronica uttered, shortly followed by a sigh. "I don't care."

"You're kidding me? You mean, you don't care that I watched porn? Are you the world's greatest woman or something?" He paused, apparently thinking something over, and then added, "Wait, you're not a lesbian are you?"

"Do I need to beat you with a blunt object? You're really trying to piss me off, huh?"

Taking out an invisible notepad, Kyle put a check mark down with his invisible pencil. "I'll take that as a firm 'No' on the whole lesbian thing. Moving on to my next question-"

Veronica groaned. "Stop. Just, stop what you're doing. I'm not going to play twenty questions."

"Putting a checkmark next to 'Does not like to play games.' Tell me Miss. Ronnie," obviously, he completely ignored Veronica's request and continued to plague her with random questions, "if you had to choose between a long walk on the beach or pounding down a bottle of vodka, you'd choose?"

Without missing a beat, Veronica replied, "What? No option to beat the annoying prick who won't stop bugging me? Because I want to do that."

Kyle shrugged his shoulders and threw the invisible notepad behind him. "Okay, okay. Fine, I'm done. Besides, look, more zombies! I NEVER get tired of running into these things." He offered a weak laugh as he pointed off in the distance, apparently finished with his pointless questions.

Trekking through the city, outside of their occasional run-ins with the undead, became rather daunting. While the horrors lurking behind every corner managed to keep Kyle and Veronica on their toes, it became all too easy for Veronica, at least, to fall into her usual survival-driven lull. That was until they entered a small part of the city that she used to occasionally frequent before everything went to hell. They passed by a couple of the club scenes that she attended when feeling somewhat outgoing and it felt odd to her to see those places empty and void of life, as if her past experiences inside their walls were nothing but dreams. While she made no comment to Kyle about her memories of the area, she did mentally linger on a particular bar that they passed, her mind shifting back to a particular evening that occurred only weeks prior.

A woman that Veronica worked with on the few instances that their schedules overlapped named Carol had invited her out drinking. Honestly, Veronica only agreed in order to get the woman to stop bugging her, dropping her usual cold and distant persona in order to appease this person's desire to start some sort of friendship between them. Of course, the prospect of getting hammered and forgetting about her dreary life also held quite the appeal to Veronica, even if it meant dealing with Carol's asinine bullshit.

Walking into J's Bar, a place that she had gone on seldom occasions beforehand to spend a quiet evening drinking, it didn't take long for Carol to flag her down and practically drag her to one of the tables in the bar.

"V! There you are!" the woman exclaimed, her chest bouncing in an almost comical fashion as she ran to greet Veronica because, apparently, she was far too good for bras. "For a moment I didn't think you were coming."

Carol forced a pretend sad face and took Veronica by the arm to lead her to one of the tables in the room. "Please, don't touch me," Veronica ordered to no avail as Carol simply continued to tug her along, thinking her words as little more than a playful joke.

The general quiet lackluster of the bar became all too apparent with how few patrons had decided to stop by that night. A couple of security guards, still in uniform, sat at the bar along with a couple of other men. The waitress kept herself busy serving drinks to the patrons, every now and then cleaning off one of the unused tables. If only to make matters worse, Carol wouldn't stop talking about her personal life, driving Veronica to the point where she felt like smashing a glass mug against the table and stabbing the woman in the eye. Instead, she ordered a few shots of tequila, figuring that going into a drunken stupor would help prevent Carol's boring tales from making her kill the woman in order to save her sanity.

As the night wore on, Carol eventually left the table to head off to the bathroom. It was only shortly thereafter than one of the men who had stood at the bar for most of the night walked over to Veronica's table and sat down. He asked her in an all too typical fashion, "So, what would a beautiful woman such as yourself say if I offered to buy you a drink?"

Veronica replied with a simple, yet harsh, "No," as if to drive the word directly into the man's heart and cease his life.

"Come on, it's the least I can do for gracing me with your presence this evening."

"The least you could do for me would be to go hang yourself in the bathroom." If anything, drinking did tend to unlock a nastier-than-usual side to Veronica's demeanor, removing that fragile wall which often stood between her and verbally cussing out everyone who annoyed her.

The man seemed little phased by her direct insult, but in the end, he wound up walking away with his tail between his legs, utterly defeated. Shortly after he returned to his position as 'Bar Fly,' Carol returned as smiley as ever. "I saw you talking to that guy! Cute, huh?"

"If by cute, you mean he makes me want to vomit, sure." While her words may have been a little exaggerated, she really found nothing too appealing about him. In fact, it was rare that she ever found a guy particularly attractive, finding most people in general nearly unbearable to be around as soon as they began talking.

"You mean you turned him away!?" Carol seemed awfully hurt by Veronica's ability to cockblock herself. "Come on, V! I told him you could use some company, why'd you have to go and do that? Do you want to be alone forever?" She sighed and took a sip of her martini. "I knew I should have kept him for myself…"

She had half a mind to answer, "Yes, I do want to be alone forever," but she was too filled with drunken disgust towards Carol to say much of anything. If she had opened her mouth to speak, she would have probably wound up saying, "There's still time for you to go throw your legs around him and leave me the hell alone."

Looking back on the entire situation, Veronica felt compelled to regret how mean she had been to that guy, even if he had only approached her because Carol told him to. Maybe she should have at least gotten his name and let him buy her a drink. After all, he hadn't asked the world of her, just for a drink and the time to get to know her. Was that really so bad? Did she have to push him away like that?

Yet, in the end, she knew that she never really cared to know the answer to those questions. She had always been like that, reluctant to get close to anyone because of how much most people tended to bother her. In fact, what surprised her the most about her brief reverie was more so that she never truly cared what happened to that nameless man who tried to pick her up or Carol. She felt pretty sure that they were both dead and even though she knew that she should have probably felt something over that idea, she didn't. Carol was a self-focused, gossipy bitch that Veronica always found difficult to actually tolerate and without a doubt, the man was probably nothing much either. In the end, she simply didn't care.

"Ronnie," Kyle whispered, thankfully pulling Veronica out of her thoughts. She hadn't realized it, but they had stopped moving right across the street from J's Bar. In a way, it didn't look much different from the few times she had went there in her past life. "You heard that, right?"

Before she could even ask, "Heard what?" a man's scream for help came from a behind nearby buildings. Both survivors looked towards the nearest alley, then to each other. Obviously, Kyle wanted to go off and help the man, but Veronica felt all too inclined to leave him to his fate and continue with her own escape from the city's terrible clutches. However, she could practically see the pleading in her companion's eyes to go and check on the source of the scream. If she wasn't so certain that Kyle would go off on his own if she chose to ignore it, she probably would have wound up walking away.

A quick run through the nearby alley, around a corner into a small series of back alleys revealed a small congregation of undead, animate bodies closing in on a dead end. Trapped in front of them stood the source of the scream; a defenseless man facing down certain death. Kyle and Veronica stopped at the back of the undead mob and it took a moment for her to be able to make out that the helpless man was wearing Umbrella's mercenary attire.

"SHIT!" He cried, desperately looking around for a source of escape until he finally noticed that two living beings stood behind the zombie crowd. "Hey! HEY! Get me out of here! I ran out of ammo! Hurry!"

Veronica stood still, staring down the individual for a moment before calling out, "Would you do the same for us?"

Kyle looked at her with surprise splashed across his face. "Ronnie, you can't be serious."

"OF COURSE! PLEASE!" He screamed as the undead closed in on him.

Kyle lifted up his shotgun to begin clearing out the small horde in order to save the man, but Veronica took a swift step in front of him, apparently valuing the death of the mercenary over her own life. Needless to say, logical thought had escaped her for a brief time "Fuck you. You don't give a damn about us, so why should we give a damn about you?"

"Ronnie!" Kyle lowered his gun for a moment before stepping to her side. "We're not letting him die."

The mercenary cried out again, the undead far too close for comfort. "I was sent here to SAVE people like you! You have to help me, please!"

Kyle lifted his gun again, but Veronica grabbed the barrel and lowered it. She replied to the mercenary's pleas with a simple, yet harsh, "No," as if to drive the word directly into the man's heart and cease his life.

The mercenary never had time to get out another word. The small mob overwhelmed the defenseless man and took him to the ground. They circled his body and began to feast on him like a bunch of hungry, savage family members devouring turkey at a Thanksgiving dinner. Veronica released Kyle's gun and turned to leave the alley, the man's dying screams filling the air for a few moments before finally fading off. She could hear her companion mutter, "Ronnie…" before turning his back on the forsaken man to follow her.

She knew that Kyle would hold that against her, that she shouldn't have let that man die like that, but in the end, Veronica simply didn't care. If he had been another survivor, maybe the outcome would have been different, but she couldn't bring herself to aid someone who worked for the very company that brought the entire disaster to Raccoon City. Like Carol or the man who had tried to pick her up, the mercenary probably should have held some sort of significance, however faint, to Veronica, but he didn't.

In a way, perhaps Kyle realized that and understood why Veronica had done what she did. After all, he did admit to the mercenaries being the 'Bad Guys' some time back. Either way, he never brought up that incident again after they left the alley. Even after a few minutes of silent traveling, he picked up his invisible notepad once more and asked her, "This next question is VERY important in deciding just how kickass of a woman you are. Ready?" He took a slight pause. "Are you bisexual?"

Even though she felt like hitting him for such a question, Veronica couldn't help but to crack a smile. If he had pressed the issue of what had happened, she knew he would have made her feel terrible, a lot more like the monster she knew she was starting to become, for letting that mercenary die, but he didn't. For that moment, he allowed her to let herself claim that she made the right choice and ignore the fact that she had begun caring so little about human life.


	30. Part 29

"Take care, sugar." Patricia's voice rang through Damien's small earpiece, static doing well enough to mix with the rush of wind to distort the usual playful seduction within her words. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

As the pilot of the helicopter blew Damien a kiss over their communication system, he released his hold of the rope ladder, landing on the roof of a residential apartment building. The ladder retracted back into the helicopter and the machine began to rise in altitude. Patricia offered her final words, "Remember, I'm just a phone call away if any of you get lonely and want me to come pick you up."

With that, she was gone, leaving Damien, Frederick and Billy in the center of Raccoon City to fend for themselves and complete their mission.

Frederick stepped next to Damien, a new heavy-duty backpack filled with rations and supplies strapped to his back. "So, let me get this straight. This is where Umbrella lost contact with Muguil?"

"About a day ago, yes," Damien replied, running a hand to his waist to assure himself that he remembered his combat hatchet. "They had brief contact with the woman who apparently killed him."

Billy walked to the edge of the rooftop, placing his hands upon what meager safety rail the owner had probably set up to prevent his miserable tenants from leaping over in an exhibition of sheer misery, ultimately leaving a painful and difficult to clean splotch of gore plastered upon the pavement before his building.

Frederick looked around at the bleak skies and lifeless buildings. Crows cawed off in the distance as if celebrating the arrival of the three agents. "Man, this place is giving me the creeps…" he muttered under his breath before returning his attention to Damien. "Did you know Muguil?"

"No. He was a researcher first and an operative second. From what I heard of him, his loss is going to be felt throughout the corporation."

"Ah, I see…" Frederick continued to look around towards distant horizons, on constant unease, perhaps imagining that something would soon swoop out from the sky and tear his skull right from between his shoulders. "So, we're just going to find his body, or what?"

Damien glanced towards Billy, who took off from his place against the guardrail and began to approach the door leading into the building. "We need to retrieve what we can of the things he had on him and then track his killer down."

"And just how are we supposed to find this person?"

It was a legitimate question, the likes of which Damien would have attempted to answer if Billy hadn't thrown open the door and cut him off. "What is it waiting for me beyond this shadow portal? Stiff silence. Unyielding darkness." A short pause followed, giving Frederick and Damien just enough time to cast their attention to their commander. "What? Whispers through my haunted mind? Lenore? Lenore!"

He ran his hand up to his neck, took hold of the mask that covered his entire head and tore it off, casting it to the side like a discarded piece of tissue paper. With a laugh that did all too well at shoving pins and needles through Damien's spine, the man turned to glance at his fellow squad members. His eyes were little more than hollow vortexes, emulating to near perfection the very shadows he had previously gazed upon. His skin, in sharp contrast, seemed far too white to be natural, as if he were just as undead and rotten as the rest of the creatures in the city. "But there is nothing more. Nothing more." He laughed to himself and then became one with the shadowed interiors of the building.

After the initial shock of Billy's display of odd behavior wore off, Damien shed his own mask, taking some comfort in the feel of fresh air against his face. Frederick soon followed, both of them discarding their previous equipment in much the same fashion as Billy had done. Finding the will to move, Damien took lead towards the opened doorway, Frederick is quick pursuit.

"That had to have been the creepiest fucking thing I've ever seen," Frederick uttered as the two followed in their commander's tracks.

Damien began to descend the stairs, taking it slow so as to avoid the most humiliating death a man in his particular line of work could face: Death via falling down stairs. "It's obvious that you really haven't been working for Umbrella that long… I've seen things no one should ever see and honestly, our leader is the least of my concerns."

The two Umbrella agents made their way down the back most stairwell of the building, checking each hallway they came across for signs of Billy. Even with daylight making its way through the all too dirty and unkempt windows, the stairwell proved to be too dark for comfort. The fact that the railings shook due to even the slightest nudge didn't help to settle any nerves about making an all too unfortunate misstep. On occasion, Damien stopped due to hearing a faint noise behind the shadows, but regardless of how long he waited for something to show itself, nothing ever came forth. He poked and prodded the area enough to put his unease at rest and assign the mysterious noise to bad plumbing. Nonetheless, he made sure to tell Frederick to keep on his guard.

In the end, his warning amount to nothing.

Damien opened the door to the last hallway before reaching the ground floor, the ancient, heavy door itself doing little to muffle its overly loud and obnoxious creaking. "Billy...?" he whispered down into the darkness of the hall. The smell of decay and spilled blood immediately fell upon him, causing him to gag and pull back for only a brief moment. He went to call for Billy again, determined to overcome the pungent smell that filled the hall, but a simple, yet all too penetrating noise cut him off.

A heavy thud came from behind him, as if someone had dropped a large sandbag to the ground. When the agent turned to face the reason for the noise, he came face to face with a large, unnaturally formed black blob hiding within the shadows of the stairwell landing. At his feet laid the headless body of Frederick. The man who he had talked to not even a full minute prior had been removed from the earth and the creature that killed him faced Damien down, ready to take another life and add to the collection of its corpse dolls.

There was no time to collect the supplies from Frederick's body, to attempt to confront the demon lurking behind the veil of black or even utter a single, solitary curse in order to convey how entirely hopeless the situation had become. Instead, Damien found himself moving backwards into the hallway, subconsciously forcing distance between himself and the unholy beast that had claimed Frederick. It didn't take long at all for his back to hit something squishy and slimy. Even though nearly every fiber of his being told him not to turn his attention away from Frederick's demise, Damien couldn't help but to turn around.

The shredded remains of Muguil's body had been plastered to the wall by some thick, dark gel that seemed almost to pulsate like a throbbing heart. The light from the nearby window at the end of the hall seemed to shine directly upon the display of utter horror, as if to highlight it to assure Damien's mind be forever scarred. The half of Muguil's head that remained seemed focused directly on Damien, the deceased mercenary's remaining eye wide open and watching his movements with a mixture of sheer terror and unbelievable pain. Against all possible odds, Muguil was somehow still alive, but regardless, his fate had been sealed.

Damien began to run.

The creature that had killed Frederick had apparently given up on stealth, as the rapid tip-tap of the creature's steps soon followed in pursuit of Damien. Blind terror swept over his mind and for whatever reason, he could have sworn he heard Muguil screaming in the background, but Muguil was dead. He had to be dead and to acknowledge the possibility of him living would be to take everything Damien had ever experienced with Umbrella to an entirely new, surreal and horrifying realm. Instead, all he could do was focus on running in order to escape the same fate that had claimed Frederick.

At the end of the hallway, he slipped. His boots skid along what could have only been described as a large puddle of organic puss. The noise of the creature's incoming pursuit behind him grew louder and more rapid as he barreled into the door at the end of the hall. A thin layer of puss and slime covered the front of his body from the door as he flew into the front stairwell, tripping over the edge of the stairs only to go tumbling down to the front walk-in area of building. No sooner did he come to a stop, his entire body screaming out in pain, than a terrible shriek filled the previously still air.

When Damien's vision came into focus, he found Billy standing at the first landing, his blade stuck through the giant, four-legged insect-like creature's skull. In one swift movement, he pulled his blade from the hellspawn and brought it down upon one of the creature's limbs, severing it from its body. He repeated that action twice more until the monster finally fell to the ground, where he delivered one final blow to its back. After a short spasm, Damien's attacker and Frederick's killer fell back into the underworld where it belonged.

Billy began to descend the stairs and with all the shock and awe that had taken over Damien's mind, he could only begin to say, "Fred… Frederick's…"

"Dead." Billy finished the sentence without much thought into the subject, as if he didn't care in the slightest. In fact, the Umbrella agent continued past Damien to the front door, entirely unconcerned about his remaining squad mate's condition.

Damien could only watch, wide eyed, as Billy walked into Raccoon City's streets. The sword blade retracted into the handle and he hooked it back to the belt at his waist. In no time at all, Billy turned down the street and went out of view. It only took a few seconds for Damien to stand up, push through the pain that had seized his nerves and follow his commander.

It only took a few seconds for Damien to begin to believe all those stories he had heard about Billy and begin to realize that he had become part of something so much larger than he had ever intended to be involved in.


	31. Part 30

"Do we go around or straight through?"

After thinking for a brief moment, Kyle replied, "If we go right through, we can reach the highway quicker."

The two survivors stood at the beginning of one of the several pathways leading into Raccoon City Park. Like a completely new form of beast, the park seemed to stand before them without all the simplistic comfort it had offered in a past life. With the rest of the city in ruin around it, the park only remained as another obstacle for the would-be survivor to traverse. The pathway before Veronica and Kyle wound through a short clearing before disappearing behind a patch of trees in the distance.

"But who knows what's in there," Veronica added, throwing a glance off down the street to her right in order to compare the alternate option. "And it's already getting dark."

Kyle laughed and threw his arm around Veronica's shoulders, as if she hadn't shown on several occasions prior that she had very little issue with delivering pain to him for invading her personal space. "I'm sure we can handle it! After all, we have Ronnie-The-Killing-Machine on our side."

Even though he was joking, Veronica felt her companion's words tear into her heart like a buzz saw. Thinking of herself as a killing machine made her feel instantly ill. "Sure…" She really couldn't offer much else in response, simply lowering her head in an attempt to overcome the nausea welling inside her. For several moments, she even allowed Kyle to keep his arm around his shoulders, somehow fearing that she'd end up submitting to her sickness and vomiting if he released her.

Eventually, Veronica and Kyle began their walk into the depths of the park, leaving behind the shattered remains of the city for the time being. With the sky growing dark, as soon as they entered the small, wooded portion of the area, it seemed as if they had entered a completely different world. Gone were the wrecked vehicles and remnants of decaying bodies, replaced by still lively trees and quiet, nightly air. For a while, they may have forgotten about the disaster, the park apparently having decided to feed them a false sense of security before letting its own population of undead free. No sooner did they begin walking into the depths of the park did they come across several wandering corpses, forcing them once again to go out of their way in order to avoid unnecessary confrontation.

Veronica had never gone to the park that often. Once or twice, she had been asked out by some unlucky fool who managed to build up the nerve to approach her, but she never obliged their requests. Instead, the only occasions she ever found herself within Raccoon City Park either included a much needed walk to get away from the drollness of her life or something involving a remote part of the park and booze. Looking back, she half wished that she had taken the time to enjoy what the park had to offer, even going as far as to consider that she should have accepted more invitations out, if only for the possibility of free food and the ability to know how to traverse the park better. Luckily enough, however, it seemed as if Kyle knew the area well enough.

"Wait," Veronica began as the two merged back on to one of the main paths, leaving behind a small group of undead to wander mindlessly in search of the meal that got away. "Why the hell am I in the lead, again? Shouldn't the man been pulling his weight and start doing something other than stare at my ass?"

"I'm sorry," Kyle spoke up from behind. "Could you repeat that? I was far too busy staring at your ass."

Veronica stopped walking and turned around, her hands instantly rising to her hips as if to show Kyle in the most stereotypical manner that he had upset her. "Do I need to beat you?"

Taking her by surprise, however, Kyle offered a simple smile. "I'm only kidding, Ronnie. Here," he walked up to her, stepping to her side. "We'll both lead. Happy?"

"Sure…" She cocked her head to the side, looking Kyle over while anticipating something incredibly stupid to come from his mouth, but it never happened. He began walking and she soon followed, catching up to join him as they progressed further through the park.

Silence pressed against their lips once more, Kyle seemingly lost in his thoughts and Veronica fully unwilling to invoke a conversation. That all ceased when the two survivors began to cross a short cobblestone bridge leading over a small creak. By this time, Veronica couldn't make out the water running, but she heard the liquid splash against various rocks. For whatever reason, she imagined the water as black liquor, waiting to swallow up any who crossed its path, as if like everything else in the damned city, the water had been infected and transformed into another hellish nightmare.

"I think they're following us," Kyle stated about halfway over the bridge, causing Veronica to take a glance over her shoulders. Human-like blobs of shadow moved beneath the waning daylight, offering hollow moans to take the place of crickets chirping in the night. Of course they were following. The park didn't offer all the nice obstacles of the streets to impede their paths.

"As long as we keep moving, we should be fine." Veronica picked up her pace, quite certain that she and her companion could manage to outmaneuver their undead predators with relative ease.

Of course, Irony then slapped them both in the face as Kyle stopped walking and called out, "Shit! I think… I think I stepped in… gum or something."

Veronica turned around, ready to hit Kyle herself for making such a big deal out of stepping in gum and being a jackass, even though she somehow knew she only felt angry because he managed to worry her for all of split second. However, when she saw him desperately tugging on his leg to free himself, more like as if he had stepped into a puddle of super glue, her desire to smack him waned a little. Taking note of the distance between them and the undead following down the path, she ran to his side. "What's the problem?"

"Leg," he exclaimed, giving it another tug. "Stuck."

Not able to really wrap her mind around what happened, Veronica asked again, "What?"

Kyle attempted to move his other leg, then let out another curse. "My legs are stuck in something! You have got to be kidding me!"

"We don't have time for this, Kyle." Veronica took another quick glance at the approaching mob of zombies, slowly but surely making their way to the bridge.

"Ronnie," Kyle brought her attention back to him, holding up his hand, which was covered by some sort of thick film. "I think we have a problem."

As if the creatures of the night had been waiting for such a signal, no sooner did Kyle's words fall upon Veronica's ears than she found herself lying on ground. The dark blue sky spun above her, allowing the faint stars to dance and twirl like a recital of ballerinas. Kyle cried out, but Veronica's ears were ringing from the impact with the cobblestone bridge. She didn't even feel the brush of coarse fur against her cheek until two large spider fangs obstructed her view of the sky. They twitched, a couple droplets of dark liquid dripping from the tips to the ground beside her.

"Oh… shit!" Veronica muttered in a solitary exhale, reaching for her knife only to find her right arm stuck to the ground. Panic seized her as the giant arachnid rubbed its fangs together and pressed an overbearing leg against her chest.

Kyle yelled, shortly followed by a couple shotgun blasts and then a deep thud. Veronica stared wide eyed up at her assailant, visualizing those large fangs burrowing into her skull within the next couple of seconds. Luckily enough for her, Kyle's subsequent call for help broke her from her daze. She flicked her left wrist, thanking her luck that her other hand hadn't been stuck to the ground as well, and cut the creature's leg. Reacting to the pain, the giant spider retreated into the darkness, giving Veronica just enough time to cut herself free from the webbing that had secured her to the ground.

"Get this thing off me!" Kyle called out, struggling to hold back the large arachnid pinning him to the ground.

Veronica noticed that the zombies had made their way to the bridge. "Son of a bitch!" Turning her attention back to Kyle, she reached into her vest and pulled out Muguil's magnum. "Don't move!" The possibility of hitting Kyle flashed in her mind for all of a moment before she pulled the trigger, instantly sending a shockwave up her arms while causing the spider to flop to the side with a rather sizeable portion of its body destroyed.

Wasting no time, Veronica returned the magnum to its holster and ran to Kyle, drawing Granite from her waist. After firing off a couple shots to keep the closest of the zombies back, she began to cut Kyle free of the webbing that stuck to his clothes and kept him glued to the ground. "We need to move."

He got to his feet. "Right." He offered Veronica a nod, lifted his shotgun and fired a couple of shots into the oncoming crowd of undead.

Veronica turned to head down the bridge while Kyle cleared out some of the closest zombies, though her feet became stuck only a few steps away. "You have to be kidding me!"

Readying herself to cut her feet free, the spider that she had cut early limped back to the top of the bridge, its attention fully focused on her. For a moment, she stood paralyzed, staring back into the true embodiment of unnatural horror as it prepared to pounce on her. However, before it had a chance, Kyle ran to her side and aimed his shotgun at the beast. "I always hated spiders. And centipedes. Fuck 'em."

The giant arachnid reeled back and shot out a glob of what Veronica could only assume was webbing at Kyle. He yelled out in pain and dropped the shotgun, going into a desperate fit to brush away the substance the spider had spat at him. Veronica realized that she had to do something and crouched down to free herself, Muguil's wrist blade making quick work of the webbing around her feet. The next thing she knew, the giant spider started to charge at her while Kyle fell to his knees at her side. The spider attempted to swipe her legs from underneath her, only to be greeted with a series of five bullets to its skull. As the giant arachnid stepped back, probably preparing another retreat, Veronica took initiative to finish the battle, bringing her wrist blade down on its head, twisting her arm to make sure that she ground up anything and everything within the creature's skull. Once its body began to spasm, she pulled her blade out and pushed it back into its holster.

"Kyle!" She yelled, the first thing she noticed upon turning to check on her companion being the approaching undead. Veronica had no choice but to draw her handguns and unload them into the zombies that had decided to make Kyle their next target. After the corpses returned to the earth where they belonged, she ran to her companion, kneeling in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"Shit burns…" Kyle uttered, still running his hands up and down his arms in order to rub away the spider's spit.

Veronica glanced up. "We really need to move, now." She helped Kyle to his feet and began leaving the bridge behind before the mob of zombies could come any closer. It would only be a few minutes later that she realized they had forgotten Kyle's shotgun.

The two survivors continued their escape, heading further into the park without paying much attention as to where exactly they were heading. Not once did either of them glance back, fearing that they'd find a horde sent directly from hell on their trail. Instead, they focused on putting the greatest amount of distance between them and the monsters from the bridge. After awhile, night consumed the park, turning everything except the seldom light along some of the pathways into nothing but motionless shadows. The entire world had turned against the living, leaving Veronica and Kyle directly in the middle of hell without any sanctuary to hold themselves within.

"I'm okay. You can stop hugging me now." Kyle grinned and gently pushed away from Veronica, who had been helping him along since they left the bridge.

After that comment, she happily released him to fend for himself. "Right." She shook her head and the two approached a clearing with the statue of some famous dead man that Veronica couldn't recognize standing directly in the center of a nonworking fountain. Four park benches stood around the fountain, promoting an ideal of peace and tranquility that no longer existed within the park. "Any idea as to where we are, or are you just going to bitch about how much it burns some more?"

Kyle walked over to one of the benches and sat down, allowing Veronica to do the work of assuring that the immediate vicinity was clear of any threats. "It really does burn, you know…" She recalled when the zombie threw up on her so many days prior and how that sensation disappeared within a few hours. Kyle's clothing, while still showcasing the gunk from the spider, hadn't dissolved like her shirt had. "We're in the center of the park."

Veronica took off her backpack and set it on the bench, taking a seat next to Kyle. She took out one of their last bottles of water, drank about half of it and passed the rest to her companion. After he finished drinking and threw the bottle to the ground, obviously having no need to care about littering anymore, Kyle stood to, as he phrased it, "Go make use of a tree."

Sitting by herself, Veronica sat back and looked up at the sky, muttering to herself, "We're so close to getting out of here…" She sighed, watching the crescent moon hanging in the sky, mocking her with its illuminating glare. However, before she could harness any bitter thoughts against the moon for watching over the Raccoon City disaster from its safe perch, the sound of shuffling caught her attention.

"Ronnie…" Kyle groaned, slowly moving towards her while clutching his stomach. "I think… I think I'm in trouble…" He let out a weak gasp, stumbled, and then fell to the ground with all the lifelessness of the countless zombies that Veronica had slain.


	32. Part 31

"KYLE!" No sooner did she watch Kyle slump over than she bolted from the bench to his side. Kneeling down, Veronica placed her hands against his back and began to shake him, looking for any sort of response to let her know that he hadn't up and died on her. "Kyle, speak to me. Kyle?"

Nothing but incomprehensible words escaped him at first, forcing him to repeat himself a couple of times before Veronica could make out what he said. "It still burns… I'm on fire…" He began to cough, and then gag until Veronica rolled him onto his back, completely unsure as to what she should have done. Then he threw up.

"Shit! Shit! Fucking shit!" Veronica looked down on the frail man, wide eyed and confused. It had all come out of nowhere and her mind frantically ran through several thoughts, ranging from the virus that had claimed so many lives and turned them into the walking dead to a stomach bug striking Kyle at the worst possible moment. "Say something."

"My… my throat…" she could hear the strain in his voice, knowing that every word caused him pain.

Letting out a disgusted groan, Veronica reached out and wiped the vomit from Kyle's face and shirt. His eyes locked on her for the briefest of moments and he attempted to move, only to collapse back down and pass out. She stared at him lying before her, thinking that he had died. For a moment, that thought ran rampant through her body, freezing her muscles in sheer uncertainty and fear, until she finally placed her hand against his chest and felt him breathing, however weakly.

"Damnit… damnit!" she continued to mutter to herself, looking down on Kyle, then at the area immediately around her. Nothing but darkness stood in all directions, weighing down on any hope she'd have of doing anything to save Kyle. Not ready to submit herself to the idea that Kyle was succumbing to the disease that turned the living to the walking dead, Veronica decided that whatever the giant spider had spit at him ended up poisoning him. That thought in mind, as to think anything else would have been a hopeless venture, she knew that there was a hospital a few blocks from where that had entered the park, but she had no idea if she'd even be able to make it that far.

Oddly enough, it was only then that the thought of leaving Kyle passed her mind. Even more odd was the fact that she didn't linger on it for any length of time, somehow knowing that she wouldn't be able to leave him. Of course, she couldn't spare the time to let that thought frighten her as she needed to make up her mind on what her next course of action would be. In the end, she pulled Kyle to his feet and began the slow journey back through the dark horrors of Raccoon City Park, never considering or even caring that she had left her backpack of supplies on the bench by the fountain.

"Hang on," she groaned, pulling him into a tighter grip. Every now and then, it seemed as if he'd attempt to move his legs, but for the most part Kyle became dead weight.

The path ahead of her seemed to wind on like a dark serpent, teasing her with the prospect of making progress only to force her down time-wasting side paths. It had taken a mind of its own, the animate shadows at the sides watching her slow progress with a sadistic lust. The city became alive with turmoil once more and even though the undead mercifully stayed their assault for the time being, she couldn't keep her heart from pounding beneath her chest. Her muscles burned with Kyle's added weight, but she continued, determined to slay the demons that stood in her path to the hospital.

In truth, Veronica had no idea what she could do to save Kyle. Confusion led to desperation and she clung to the idea that the hospital could act as some sort of sanctuary. She didn't know what she would do when they arrived or what she would search for in order to help Kyle, but she was determined to reach the hospital all the same. At least then, there would be a chance of doing something, anything, to prevent him from slipping into Death's hands.

Shortly after glancing at Kyle's face, images of the elementary school began to flash through Veronica's mind. She saw herself standing in the massacre of the cafeteria, covered head to toe in the foul blood of the damned. Her body screamed, but her mouth stayed shut, refusing even to give her tormented spirit the pleasure of releasing the slightest bit of agony. She craved blood and desired the blissful peace that came with proving that she was better than any of the horrors the city could throw at her. Fear became her blood and death became her avatar.

Everything she saw had been painted red, even the two human shadows that emerged at the other end of the cafeteria. She had the pleasure of watching as one of the shadows became Kyle. The hand in which she held her dagger throbbed with anticipation of gashing his throat and adding warm, fresh blood to its coat. Her lips parted in a smile and she bit down on her tongue until she could taste blood.

She yelled at him when all she wanted to do was run away. Her anger came out with her words, a voice speaking completely unlike her own. Veronica had become ethereal within her own body, no control over how she acted, becoming a slave to maddening chaos. She held so much hate for the man who had ran off only to save a helpless girl, knowing that Veronica could take care of herself, figuring that she'd follow behind him. It wasn't his fault that she didn't and she knew that but her body still wanted him dead, clinging to anything at all in order to justify such a terrible desire.

When he embraced her, the chains binding her to madness shattered and released her fragile soul to take control of her body once more. Everything began to fade until nothing remained except herself. She remembered wanting to hug him and cry, but she couldn't bring herself to do such a thing. She couldn't bring herself to forgive him and accept that it was never his fault because she was afraid of what that would mean about her.

Every lapse of sanity that Veronica succumbed to after that incident became less painful and horrifying than the last. Even though she couldn't admit it, her blood lust almost became natural for her body, practically replacing the typical sort of adrenaline rush she used to experience. It became more difficult for her to accept the concept of fleeing from danger, the need to kill clouding her mind when she knew that it shouldn't.

A single crow cawed off in the distance, its mocking laughter echoing into the night, and Veronica became overwhelmed with the feeling that she was surrounded. When Kyle spoke, his weak words managed to rip apart the thoughts Veronica was having, pulling her back entirely to the cold, harsh grips of reality. "R-Ronnie..?"

Keeping her eyes in front of her, still moving despite how much her arms began to tremble, Veronica replied, "Don't worry. We're going to the hospital."

He put forth some effort to walk again and failing that, uttered, "You should just… leave me…"

Veronica stayed silent.

"I did it to you…" He coughed and lowered his head.

Veronica struggled to keep moving. Like a miracle, the street they had entered the pack from came into view. "No…"

Kyle tried to push himself away from Veronica to no avail. "I'm not… not going to mess up again… forget about me and get out… I don't… don't want you dying because… of my mistake."

Without thinking, as her mind had already fallen to pieces, Veronica yelled out, "Damnit Kyle! Shut up! Just-Just shut up!" Her voice quivered and when she tried to speak again, she found herself choking. "You did the right thing… Stop acting like you didn't."

He gave up trying to move. "I left you alone and… and I let… Kathy die…"

"You did the right thing…" She had to stop moving before her legs gave way. "I messed up, okay!?" she screamed, her voice straining. "It's my fault she's dead and it's my fault you're hurt! It's MY FAULT Kyle! Mine! Can't you see that? It's all my goddamn fault, and if anything I should be the one to fucking die!" Her throat went taught and even though she wanted to say more, she couldn't.

Kyle could only manage to say her name before falling silent.

"You've seen what's happening to me, Kyle…" She didn't realize it, but her eyes had begun to water, sending small droplets of liquid warmth down her cheeks to join at her chin before cascading to the ground. "I'm not okay… I'm not okay."

"Listen," he attempted to move himself again, failing entirely. "What's been going on with you is what's gotten us this far… There's no other person I'd rather be stuck with." He forced a pathetic, weak laugh. "Besides, when I look at you, I only see a girl with extreme temper tantrums."

Veronica couldn't force herself to respond, merely staring at the ground in front of her for a moment. Eventually, she found the will to turn her head and look at Kyle, who despite suffering from some obvious internal pain, was smiling. For the briefest of moments, the city went away and he was the only thing she saw.

A rotten, wretched hand took hold of Kyle's shoulder and tore him away from Veronica's grasp. Watching Kyle fall back into the abysmal darkness around her, Veronica spent all of two seconds in utter shock before drawing her knife from its sheath. Before the zombie that had taken Kyle had even enough time to open its mouth and prepare to bite him, she stuck her blade into the top of its skull, ripped it out and stabbed the creature again in the forehead. As it fell to the ground, Kyle collapsed back into Veronica's arms and passed out once more.

Looking around, Veronica saw more of the undead emerge from the shadows. "You'll be okay…" She began to back towards the street, exchanging her knife for one of her handguns. "I promise."


	33. Part 32

"Look at them," Billy ordered, standing in the center of one of Raccoon City's streets with Damien at his side. "Their lives, all in vain for now the shadow of Death shall come and claim what He wishes." His hand went to his sword hilt and the blade left its mechanical sheath.

"You're… You're kidding me?" Damien could only stare at the mass of undead congregating in a mindless party for the damned at a large intersection.

Billy laughed, letting his hollow expressions of amusement fall from his lips like anvils plummeting to the earth to crush the skulls of children. As his laughter waned, he turned his head to Damien and flashed a grin that could have made anyone's heart stop cold. "You fancy me mad?" He paused, seemingly waiting for a reply that Damien would never give. "Madmen know nothing."

"There… there…" He wanted to say that there had to have been at least twenty zombies standing in their way, but words failed him.

"Thirty. Thirty-two." He removed his gaze from Damien. "And a half."

The Umbrella agent began to dash at the horde of undead opponents, leaving Damien behind to watch in sheer amazement as he dove headfirst into unbelievable danger. He knew that his only chance for survival laid in Billy's hands, it finally dawning on the poor soldier-for-hire that he had signed up for a mission way out of his league. Of course, that wasn't to say that Damien couldn't fend for himself, as he had proved time and time again his capabilities with a shotgun, but the Raccoon City disaster stood as a tangible nightmare that he feared he would never wake from.

Committing himself to what may have turned out to be his worst decision ever, Damien tightened his grip on his shotgun and followed Billy to the undead. The killing machine began to make quick work of the corpses that stood in his path, severing their rotten limbs from their bodies as if they were made out of half-melted butter. On the other hand, Damien took a deep breath before beginning to dispatch the zombies nearest him, his shotgun turning parts of their bodies into little more than explosive cocktails of gore, shedding their remains upon the ground and nearby useless vehicles.

"Duck," Billy ordered without all the force one would expect from a leader issuing a command.

The word was almost entirely lost to Damien for a moment before his body finally caught up with his mind, forcing him to duck. At just that instant, a large crow dived down from the sky, swooping through the area of space where his head would have been if it hadn't had been for Billy. Of course, shock soon turned to annoyance as Damien leveled his shotgun and literally made the bird combust into little more than a tangled mess of black and red feathers. However, more of the black birds came to replace their fallen comrade, forcing the two Umbrella agents to deal with constant aerial assaults and the encroachment of the surrounding undead.

With all the agility of a trained combat artist, Billy cut the pesky birds out of the sky in fluid motions that perfectly synched with his strikes against the living dead. He became more like a bladed hurricane, tearing apart anything and everything that came close to him. The ground around his feet was splattered with streams and droplets of blood in such a way that would have made abstract artists giddy with delight. Perhaps that was what Billy had become: an artist with a blade for a brush and blood for paint.

Damien wound up losing himself to the battle. His mind went blank as he continued to count how many shells he used, reloading the moment his gun began to run low. Never did his attention depart from his opponents, the only exception being his casual strike of awe inspired by Billy's sheer mastery of slaying. Even as Billy's blade made quick word of the zombies, Damien continued to keep their immediate numbers low, taking out several of wandering corpses before they even had much of a chance to get in close. In the end, when what seemed like hours of bloodshed finally ended, the two Umbrella agents stood in the center of the intersection with dismembered bodies lying in a bloody circle around them, as if they had just laid out the beginnings to a very dark and twisted satanic ritual.

Damien opened his mouth to say something, but Billy sheathed his weapon and continued down the street, as if the two of them did not just defy countless odds in surviving such a battle. It took a great deal of effort for Damien to force himself to move, wanting at least in part to celebrate the victory.

Sleep did not follow them for most of the night. Even the threat of nightfall did not deter Billy from making progress. On several occasions, Damien wondered where they were heading to and why they couldn't stop and wait until morning before proceeding. To Billy, nothing seemed to matter. Even as the monsters of the city took on the night's darkness as intangible shadow-armor, he continued to cut his way through his opponents, almost as if he wanted confrontation while all Damien wanted to do was find somewhere safe to give his aching body a much needed rest.

As they approached a small, utterly irrelevant motel, Damien couldn't keep himself quiet any longer. "What are we doing?"

Billy stayed quiet for all of three seconds, leading his companion up to the second floor. "We'll need to stay here for a bit."

While Damien could have questioned the decision, since he still had absolutely no idea as to what they were currently trying to accomplish, he didn't. The prospect of rest seemed far too nice to risk putting some doubt into his commander's head. No sooner did Billy lead the way into one of the rooms, which was surprisingly unlocked, than Damien found a mattress to collapse on. He let out a tired groan, not caring to think about anything any longer, and allowed sleep to start conquering his mind.

He never took the time to notice the box of energy bars, the bottle of water or the small boxes of ammunition sitting in the corner of the room.

"You're lucky you've proved yourself as useful, and you're lucky that you're on my side." Billy's words were lost to Damien. 'You have three hours to sleep."

Billy walked over to the doorway leading to the bathroom and muttered, "Yes, sleep well. You're time shall soon come and then you will say goodbye." He laughed quietly to himself and approached the sink, looking into the mirror above it. When he stared into the dark abysses of his own eyes, he relished in the fact that he saw the inhuman creature crawling around inside him, lurking beneath his flesh.

"It grows louder and louder every moment… The noise steadily increases. Tell me, if I tear open the floorboards, will I find your heart still beating or will I find a trail of blood leading me to where you ran off?" He pulled off his grey gloves and ran his fingertips along the edge of the sink. "My sweet Prospero, the Red Death still hunts for you."


	34. Part 33

Not only did Veronica have to press her hand against Kyle's chest in order to assure herself that he was still among the living, every couple of blocks she found it impossible to continue without resting. Often times, short breaks led to brief confrontations with the damned, since avoiding the city's undead horrors proved quite the task for Veronica's waning strength. What few streetlights remained functional along the roads began to flicker on and off, surely on their last legs before going out forever. Veronica only lingered in one place long enough to dispatch any immediate threats and regain some of her lost strength before picking up once again on her increasingly overwhelming task of bringing Kyle to the hospital.

Every now and then, he'd pull out of his unconscious slumber for a brief moment and attempt to help by moving his legs. Each time he tried, he failed, often offering a weak apology to Veronica before slipping away again. Any objection he had before about her attempt to save him had drowned to an obvious delirium of nausea and pain.

Panic had long since dried Veronica's scarce, unacknowledged tears and all her rage had been pushed to the wayside to watch helplessly as she gave into her concern for Kyle. Even though the streets had started to crawl with fresh incarnations of Death, the night seemingly having brought new, unholy life upon the city, Veronica remained focused, knowing full well that any sense of doubt could poison her and make her start to consider leaving her companion. To keep her mind at faint ease, she constantly imagined the hospital standing only one block further, but in the end, like a torturous mirage, her desires amounted to nothing more than false hope. The hospital became her mental sanctuary, taking the illusory role of a haven where, as long as she managed to reach it, everything would end up fine. No longer did she tarry on thoughts of just what she would do to help Kyle once she arrived, as those particular strains of thoughts only led down the dismal paths of distraught and anxiety. Instead, while her mind focused only on reaching her destination, her body continued its motions, working beyond its capabilities like a machine.

Crows swarmed through the sky like small, black airplanes and the undead roamed the streets like Hell's very own infantry, all in search of the two living souls who should have perished days before. Light became a bittersweet commodity, as it would provide a sense of hope and security while, subsequently, lighting up the hell around Veronica so that her eyes could take in all the tangible horrors standing in her way.

After losing her will to the strain upon her body, Veronica lost her thoughts to her travels until, finally, the hospital come into view and lifted her spirits. She paused for a moment, mostly in order to give her arms and legs a brief break, but also to give Kyle the opportunity to see that they were close. However, his eyes remained shut, forcing Veronica to continue, hoping that they would eventually open again. Of course, as became custom for the spite-filled Raccoon City, no sooner did she begin moving again than one loud, metallic thud echoed through the air behind her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. Even with the few undead circling the immediate vicinity and the occasional crow cawing from above, she knew none of those creatures would pose as much of an obstacle to her and Kyle's survival than the source of that thud. It was all too easy for her to recall the moment when the metallic capsule hit the ground before her days prior, leading to her desperate escape to the fire station.

Setting Kyle on the ground, leaning his back against the side of a car, Veronica took one last, quick glance towards the hospital, her sanctuary, before drawing her handguns and turning around to face the demon that the night had spawned to stop her from saving Kyle. A nearby streetlight did what it could to make out the monster's features as it stood on top of a crushed car, which bent and gave underneath the creature's weight. A tattered trench coat clung to its massively deformed body as little more than a single, shredded rag. Its muscles had nearly increased twice in size since its last encounter with Veronica, both of the creature's previous, human-like hands having been replaced with giant claws. Its small, cold, lifeless eyes, buried within the throbbing remnants of its skull focused on Veronica, almost waiting to see signs of utter fear and hopelessness begin to well inside her.

Even if it was only an organic killing machine, she knew that it craved revenge almost as much as she began to crave bloodshed. The fear that it seemed to search for never grew to seize Veronica's body, as anger and annoyance had already claimed her soul. Images of mutilating the giant, trench coat-wearing man's skull flashed through her mind, urging her to crack a smile at the sheer, unbelievable nature of Raccoon City. Not only was it the third time this particular monster sought to crush her, but it had literally defied absolute death and became something so much more terrible for its latest, and finale, attempt at ending her life. For a brief moment, she wondered if the hulking mess of deformed muscles and flesh had pursued her and Kyle for the last couple of days, waiting for just the right, most devastating moment to make its presence known.

There was nothing. No noise. No flash. No recoil. The giant looked down at its prey with curious satisfaction as she pulled the triggers of her handguns. Veronica could only mouth an obscenity before the mutated behemoth lifted one of its massive claws and charged at her. Without a second's delay, the next thing Veronica knew came in the form of an intense pain setting fire to her spine. She had been knocked back against one of the nearby vehicles, slumping to the ground following the impact. All of the air escaped her lungs in one forceful exhale, leaving her to drown underneath the presence of nothing, coughing and heaving in an attempt to push beyond her physical threshold of pain.

When Veronica managed to pry herself from the cool embrace of the street and look up, she found the giant staring down her poisoned companion. Kyle had begun egging the creature on in order to keep it from tearing Veronica to shreds. "Yea, that's right!" He coughed and forced through the pain that so obviously plagued his throat. What followed was a series of gunshots from his rifle. "I'm right here, asshole! Come and get me!" Of course, he couldn't even manage to stand up, ultimately submitting himself to certain death in order to save Veronica.

"KEEP AWAY FROM HIM!" Veronica screamed as she shot to her feet, the pain that previously throbbed throughout her body having turned to numbness. After slipping her handguns away, her right hand embraced the handle of her knife as she cut through the dark air towards the massive, deformed shadow, leaping onto its back. She took hold of the behemoth's shoulder with her left hand, digging her heels into its waist as she lifted the dagger above its skull.

Her blade tore into the creature like a hole punch cutting through paper. A feral scream escaped her lips as she continually plunged her weapon into its skull, giving no regard to the dark liquid that shot from each wound she delivered. The mutated behemoth eventually managed to push beyond the initial shock of being stabbed in the head and reached back, ready to sink its massive claw into Veronica's body and end the entire ordeal, but she released her grip of the creature and fell to the ground, quickly retreating to put some distance between her and the giant. Her knife, however, remained stuck in the top of its skull.

"Can't… you just leave us… THE FUCK ALONE!?" Veronica yelled out, stumbling as the numbness in her legs briefly switched to unbearable pain. A yelp escaped her lips, forcing her attention away from the hulking mass of muscle, sharp claws and sheer, natural hatred for the living that began to charge at her.

Veronica managed to dodge the attack just in time to watch the creature's massive claw tear through the door of the car she previously stood in front of. With a grunt, the behemoth tore its claw from the mangled hunk of metal, breaking the door from the car frame in the process. It was only after that display of strength that Veronica's attention switched over to Kyle, sitting on the ground with his rifle clutched against his chest, looking as if at any given moment, he'd wither away to dust. A trio of roaming zombies had approached the opposite side of the car he sat against, slowly attempting to work their absent minds over how to walk around the car in order to reach him. As if things hadn't gone from bad to worse and from worse to 'Oh shit!', a cold, tight grip wrapped around Veronica's ankle in an attempt to pull her leg back to the corpse pinned beneath the nearby car.

Tearing her leg free of the zombie's grasp, kicking its now severed arm off in the distance like a football, Veronica avoided another devastating strike from her gigantic, monstrous oppressor. Running towards Kyle, she drew one of her handguns, reached into her vest for an extra clip of ammo and replaced the empty clip. By the time she reached Kyle's side, one of the undead that had started to stalk him fell to the ground with a good five or so bullets lodged into its skull. She made quick work of the second one before another series of gunshots rang out from Kyle's rifle. Turning around, Veronica saw the behemoth barreling down on her like a rhino, Kyle's bullets doing next to nothing to impede its progress. The giant smashed into the vehicle that Kyle had been using to keep himself upright, sending Veronica off to one side while Kyle collapsed to the ground and began to struggle to crawl away. The vehicle itself flew across the nearby sidewalk, taking out the last of the three undead before crashing into the front of a floral shop. The creature wasted no time in getting over the impact with the car, immediately turning its attention to Kyle.

In the end, that turned out to be the last decision the deformed giant ever made. Veronica sprung her wrist blade from its sheath and charge at the behemoth, once again leaping onto its back, plunging her second blade into its shoulder. Immediately after she secured her hold on the beast with her right arm, she removed her emerald knife from its bleeding skull and jammed it back into the monster's shoulder. It began to writhe in place, reaching back to pry Veronica from its body but a painfully loud bang caused it to stumble forward. Even with the recoil of Muguil's magnum practically tearing apart the muscles inside Veronica's right arm, she continued to hold the weapon against what remained of the creatures head, firing three more times before losing both the feeling in her arm and her grip on the weapon.

The monster fell once again, right before Kyle. Black liquor leaked from the massive wounds it suffered at Veronica's hands. The demon's blood covered her skin and clothing like a sick and twisted war medal. However, she had no time to let the thought of its blood tainting her flesh concern her since as soon as she got to her feet, her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. Her right arm could only hang limp at her side, offering no support to break her fall. Eventually, she found the cold, wet embrace of the earth once more, feeling her heart pound against the bloodstained street like a jack-in-the-box desperately trying to escape its cell. For a while, that noise was all the seized her consciousness.

"Ronnie, wake up."

The warmth of nothing felt far too comforting.

"Can you hear me?"

Unwelcome vibrations led to cravings for stillness.

"You have to get up."

Why could nothing be left to lie?

Veronica's eyes shot open and with the flood of conscious perception that overwhelmed her mind, her lungs inflated with the heavy city air. After getting over the moment of shock as she reentered the world of reality, she attempted to roll over onto her back only to find her muscles stiff and achy. When she managed to move, all that waited for her was a thick slab of jet-black sky hanging overheard, the dull twinkles of stars acting only as annoying spectators to her misery. Her fingers braced something cold and hard. For a few useless seconds, she found herself running her fingertips along the object before her senses began coming back to her. Taking hold of the magnum, she slipped it back into its holster and turned her attention to Kyle, who had collapsed at her side. The amount of time she had laid there unconscious was completely lost to her.

She knew that he was dead. He laid there as motionless and damned as nearly everything else within the city. Veronica went to reach out and touch him, but wound up pulling her arm back in fear that the coldness covering his skin would begin to crawl over her own flesh and eat her alive. For the longest time, the world around her disappeared as she watched his motionless body. Every now and then, her eyes would play tricks on her, making it seem as if he would twitch or as if he were breathing.

Then he coughed and her heart sank, a croak escaping from the depths of her throat.

Silence took her lips, a serene and desperate numbness claiming the insides of her body as she carried Kyle to the front doors of the hospital. The building stood against the black sky like a towering embodiment of death. Truly, it was a dungeon for horror, without a doubt having been one of the first places to succumb to the disaster. The amount of distress, fear and sorrow left within those walls emanated from the very fiber of the structure. If the dead could have spoken, Veronica felt certain that nothing except screams would have echoed from within the building.

Bodies of the dead littered the lobby. Some had been torn to shreds by some abomination on legs while others merely lay on the floor in a puddle of blood and rot, peaceful and desolate. A few remained lurched over in some of the chairs within the seating area, as if they died quietly in their sleep. It seemed far too obvious that others had made their way to the hospital after the disaster claimed the lives of most living souls in the city, but any remnants of life had long since vanished from the walls. Only two remaining animate corpses stood near the check-in desk of the lobby, almost as if they were waiting for a nurse to issue them rooms so that the doctors could try to cure their intense case of 'Dead.'

Veronica set Kyle down on a chair near the front door, drawing her knife from its sheath. As she approached the two zombies, it crossed her mind that the nurse they seemed to be waiting for had arrived and that she'd set them up in the best couple of rooms Hell had to offer. Fear no longer stayed her muscles. The nightmares produced by the city had weighed down on her shoulders for far too long. Matched with her sheer determination to save Kyle, the two unlucky zombies found blood gushing from their throats and then, nothing. Veronica's sheer desire for blood seemed to twine perfectly with her will to help Kyle, pushing her to slay anything in her way without allowing her to succumb to the utter madness that often took hold of her mind.

Some of the other bodies in the room began to rise. No sooner did the one nearest to Veronica stumble to its feet than she plunged her knife into the side of its skull, decapitating the zombie in one powerful strike. A second zombie attempted to lunge at her from behind, but its jaw met with her wrist-knife. Two more of the undead fell after that one before Veronica saw a slow moving shadow begin to approach Kyle. Of course, it never got within five feet of the unconscious man before one of Veronica's blade tore into the back of its neck, the second one plunging deep into the top of its skull. She took some minor, sick delight in the cracking of the creature's rotten bone as she tore her blades free and let it fall to the ground.

Without a second thought to the blood bath she had just produced, Veronica returned her knives to their sheaths and took hold of Kyle once more. In the end, she could only manage to bring him up one flight of stairs before feeling as if her arms would fall off. It was amazing that she had managed to make it as far as she did, pushing beyond the physical exhaustion that started to run rampant through her body. Although she wouldn't ever clearly realize it, her desire to save Kyle was the only thing allowing her to go that far.

A single zombie nurse stood in the center of the hallway. The mindless cannibal turned around to face its new prey, immediately moving towards Veronica with its arms extended out, ready for the one grab that would secure its meal. The creature's direct assault, however, amounted to nothing more than a swift meeting with the floor, to stain the ground forever with the presence of death.

With a short sigh of satisfaction over her most recent killing, Veronica began to trek down the hall, checking most of the rooms as she went. About halfway down, she found a small patient's room without some festering pile of decay messing up the bed. Even with all the various pieces of paper scattered on the floor and overall general untidiness of the room, the most disturbing aspect laid in part of the doctor sitting slumped over in the far corner. Keeping her eyes focused on the body, Veronica entered the room and made her way over to the bed, where she laid Kyle down. Then she approached the body of the doctor, eyeing it over for any signs of motion before plunging her blade into its skull in order to sure that, living or dead, it would never move again.

Dragging the corpse out of the room, she found a key secured to his person. With some sort of blissful luck, the key went to that very room, allowing her to lock herself and Kyle inside She stuffed the key into her pocket before approaching the side of the bed to place a hand against Kyle's cheek. His skin felt cold and damp, but he was alive.

In order to try to keep Kyle warm, Veronica covered him with the bed sheets. She then closed the blinds over the window, having no desire to look out over the desolate city or allow the curious crow to eye over Kyle lying helpless in the bed. Finally, the point she had subconsciously dreaded arrived. She had to consider what she could actually do to aid Kyle's struggle to keep hold of his life. Panic replaced her desperate desire to reach the hospital and she began to worry. Uncertainty took hold of her legs, paralyzing her in a frame of torment as she watched Kyle resting, fighting with herself about her options.

Unable to stand around in place much longer, Veronica committed herself to the decision that she would attempt to check any sort of pharmaceutical storage the hospital might have had. If anything, she hoped that she would be able to find something generic that could, at the very least, help Kyle overcome the poison on his own. When she walked over to him, just before leaving the room, it frightened her to notice just how peaceful he looked lying there.

"I'll be right back…" she uttered, as if her words meant absolutely anything.

The only blatant noise throughout the building came from Veronica as she ran down the second floor hallway to the stairwell. Her mind tried to come up with an idea of as to where a medical supply room would be located while her body busied itself dashing through the building in a fruitless, kamikaze attempt to stumble upon such a room. As she ran by the blood splattered walls and body-laden floor, the interior of the hospital resembling a war zone more so than a place of healing, she took note that all of the rooms she passed were patients' rooms.

"Son of a bitch!" She stopped at the stairs, facing the decision as to whether to check the third floor or head back down to the first. Nearly splitting in two while trying to decide where to go, Veronica finally settled on returning to the first floor, figuring that there could have been some sort of area that people used to pick up prescriptions from, or at the very least, some sort of map of the building.

It didn't take long after descending the stairs before Veronica found herself behind the counter of the reception area, searching through various files for anything that could guide her search. The dead bodies on the floor around her and the pungent smell of decay in the air did little to seize her focus away from her objective. Failing to find anything, she turned her attention to a nearby door, which led into a small room, mostly taken up by a single table, a couple filing cabinets and a small fridge. The filing cabinets held nothing but various useless medical forms and the only things in the fridge were a couple of packaged submarine sandwiches and a can of diet soda.

Standing up, Veronica kicked the fridge door closed. "Shit… Shit!"

As luck would have it, her search finally brought her to a small, public counter for drug pickups. Entering the room revealed the body of a moderately large nurse lying face first on the ground with various larger-than-usual, slimy leeches crawling over her. Several other of the slimy critters slithered along the wall and floor after Veronica entered. Figuring it best to try not to disturb the creatures, lest they decide to swarm her, Veronica moved cautiously into the room, stepping over the nurse's body to reach a back room. Entering this room, she did not only find more of the leeches, but various shelves and cabinets filled with medicine.

Hating herself for not being able to do more, Veronica only grabbed a few bottles of generic, pain and nausea relieving medicine. Leaving the room and its slimy guardians behind, she couldn't help but wish that there existed some sort of magical cure-all, which would instantly reduce Kyle's pain and neutralize the poison in his body. Of course, she realized how ludicrous such an idea sounded and let it go.

Just as she approached the stairs once more, Veronica stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. She shook her head and began to walk up the stairs only to end up turning around and sighing. "Fuck."

As soon as Veronica reentered the room she had left Kyle within, she locked the door behind her and set the various bottles of pills, the can of soda and the turkey sub she had acquired from the fridge on a small table. She then went to Kyle's side and placed her hand against his cheek, noticing that he felt a little warmer since last time. In the end, she did what she could to try to help him. It eventually came to the point where she couldn't do anything else without seriously risking doing more harm than good. At that point, she sat down at the small table and buried her face in her hands.

It proved impossible for her to consider what she would do if Kyle died. She knew that it was only because of him that she hadn't completely submitted to whatever it was that continually plagued her mind. His company kept her safe from herself and prevented the disaster from squeezing out every ounce of life from within her. As much as it sickened her to think it, she knew that nothing but absolute, abysmal terror waited for her if he passed away.

When she found herself admitting that she needed him, she shut her eyes and furiously shook her head, bolting up from her seat. Veronica couldn't bear thinking any more or her thoughts, her terrible, frightening thoughts would end up consuming her from the inside out. In order to keep herself distracted, she began to clean the room, going as far as to strip the lab coat from the body she had removed from the room earlier in order to wipe away any of its blood that stained the wall and floor in the corner of the room. After awhile, aside from the table having been shoved up against the door for some extra security, the room looked as if nothing had ever happened to the city. To the distant onlooker only seeing that hospital room, Veronica imagined that one would only assume that a woman had come to spend the night looking over her sick boyfriend while he recovered from some near fatal disease.

She couldn't help but to smile while, after what could only have been hours of still silence, he finally stirred and spoke. She hated herself for it. "Ronnie?" Kyle brushed away some of the sheets that covered his upper torso and pushed himself to sit up. "I… I have one very… very important question."

Veronica shut her eyes, trying so damn hard to stop smiling. She hated him for making her worry, for making her care. "Wh-what...?"

"Where's the bathroom?"

"You're such… an asshole…" Veronica took a step back into the corner of the room, trying to get some distance between herself and Kyle, having no desire for him to see her nearly falling apart.

He offered a weak laugh. "What's wrong? Upset that I'm not dead yet?"

She hated him for not dying and ridding herself of anything and everything she had to do with him. She hated him for almost dying and forcing her to imagine what would happen to her if he were not longer around. Of course, she had no idea how to answer his question and simply let silence fill in where her words should have been.

"I'm not feeling so bad anymore… I think the worst of it's over." He paused for a moment, then after noticing the various grotesque liquids covering his shirt, took it off and threw it to the ground beside the bed. "You did a good job, Ronnie… I don't deserve what you did for me."

"Shut up." Why had it become so hard for her to breathe? Why was her face on fire and why were needles pricking the inside of her throat? Why did she feel like vomiting? "I… I… don't…"

"You don't what?" Somehow, she knew that if Kyle felt sure he could have made it over to her, he would have tried to walk.

Veronica let the silence come back as her brain tried to eat its way out of her head and run away from the entire situation. "I… I don't know what the hell is going on with me and I'm so goddamn scared! I'm so fucking scared!" She took a step out of the corner, her right hand rubbing her throat in a pitiful attempt to ease the pain.

"Ronnie, are you-"

"I'm so scared that I'm going to lose myself… and I'm so sick, so fucking sick of feeling scared all the goddamn time! It's not fair! It's not fucking fair!" She started to scream, her left arm crossing her stomach due to the pain that began to well inside her. "And when I thought you were going to die I… I didn't know what to do… what'd I'd do if I had to face myself alone."

Kyle then responded with the absolute best words he could have chosen for that moment, instantly causing Veronica to let out a sob and start crying. "I promised that I'd never leave you again, didn't I?"

No words followed. For the first time in years, Veronica forgot about everything trapped inside her mind, every bit of pain and anxiety that clung to her heart like parasites. There stood nothing beyond losing herself in the warming embrace, fading into a blissful void where Raccoon City and her miserable life held absolutely no relevance. Soft tenderness replaced the feeling of blood against her skin. Her body lit aflame and drove away any and all bitter chills that threatened to seize her and drag her off into the night. Her mind fell numb while her heart throbbed behind her chest until it finally exploded.

Then, there was only sweet peace.


	35. Part 34

**SEPTEMBER 30**  
_PSYCHOSIS_

Falling. A pebble beyond the cobblestone breeches plummeted through the air to sing its last, faint song before crashing into the waters and helplessly sink to the bottom of its cold depths. She hit a wall, bouncing off it as if her skin was made of rubber. However, her brain rattled around within her skull, sending deep vibrations through her nearly unbreakable body with every following impact. Nothing but desolate darkness waited to swallow her whole. The rare glance above revealed a single spec of light, a star beyond the night veil, where she had initially taken her plunge.

The last thing she heard before liquid death clogged her ears was the splash of her body reaching the bottom of the well. Sinking through its boundless depths, succumbing to the unbearable cold of the dank waters, Veronica gave up trying to swim. She gave up, not for the fact that swimming would have done nothing to prevent her descent, but because she had no desire to try to save her life. It was either drown beneath the well water, embraced forever by its unfamiliar and frozen embrace or face the light outside of the well, where everything beyond had been painted red with blood.

"Am I really this helpless?" Her words echoed through her head as if she had spoken within the depths of a never-ending cave, regardless of how her lips never moved.

Her bare feet pressed against the icy floor.

"I don't… I can't rely on anyone else but myself…"

The knife released itself from its sheath.

"I refuse to be someone's emotional slave! I'm not that pathetic!"

The blade turned downward, its tip aimed for flesh.

"I don't need anyone else! I never have! Never!"

Her grip tightened around the handle.

"But… what would I do without..."

The muscles in her arms stiffened.

"…without someone to remind me that I'm human?"

Her eyes went wide; staring down at Kyle's sleeping body.

"Oh God, what am I doing!? This… this has to be dream, a nightmare."

A smile parted her lips, making her feel nearly as vile as she felt when she had been doused in blood.

"No! No! Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up! If this is what it takes to avoid the blood, I want no part of it! NONE!"

She lifted the knife and then began to scream silent desperation. Her body froze as the blade tore through the air to reach its target, as if time itself had ceased in order to give her a break. Breathing heavily, to the point where she began to feel ill, Veronica pushed beyond the mental barrier that had encased her within her own mind. Beads of sweat began to form upon her flesh as she forced herself away from the side of the bed. When the dagger left her fingers and hit the ground, she too followed and collapsed.

Some incalculable amount of time passed before Veronica could recover from what had happened to her. Kyle continued to sleep, oblivious to everything that had occurred, almost as if he didn't give the slightest damn about her. Then again, who was to say that he hadn't suffered from the same sort of nightmares that plagued Veronica's mind? Would she have noticed if he had been going through such troubles? Did she even care? She despised how he could lay there so peacefully, ignoring her pain for his own unconscious sanctuary, but she knew that she had no right to be angry at him, that in the end she just wished he would wake up to speak to her.

Finally dressed, taking some discomfort in donning her decay-stained garments once more, Veronica sat in the only chair in the room, by the table she had pushed against the locked door. She watched as Kyle slept, dwelling in the terror of what she had nearly done to him. Even during all her other lapses of sanity, she never once lost herself to the point where she could do nothing but look on in horror to the actions her body took. She had always faded away beneath the madness as it drove her body, blissfully separated from the entire horrid event. It seemed as if she had become someone completely different, another monster born within the hell of Raccoon City. It still lurked beneath her flesh, slowly and silently eating away at her mind until she could do nothing else but submit herself to it. Then, she wondered, if she would simply cease to exist, drowned within a sea of black blood, or if she'd be forced to watch as her new master killed without any discretion, stripping away her last true hold to her own humanity with one simple gash of her knife.

On more than one occasion during her time sitting in silent, fearful contemplation, Veronica felt compelled to leave her seat and retake her spot besides Kyle. With him, at the very least, nothing plagued her mind. For the first time since the disaster started, she felt her inner venom subside and it scared her, mostly because she found that sensation within Kyle's embrace, but also because such a feeling had become so alien to her. She wondered when the last time had been that she had gotten so close to someone and when she had last felt so safe and secure, without some sort of worry on her mind. Of course, she couldn't come up with any answers.

If there had ever been doubt before, there remained none. Kyle stood as the only thing between Veronica and falling to her disease. He had been the only reason she hadn't completely lost grip of sanity earlier and, perhaps, one of the major reasons that she was still alive. As much as she wanted to run away from him and prove she didn't need him, that she would never need to depend on him to get by, just the thought of being without Kyle's company made her stomach churn and filled her throat with fiery anxiety and horror.

However, Kyle's growing importance came at a price. For every second Veronica spent allowing herself to find security in his presence, she began to feel helpless in a completely different sense. Unlike the disease taking over her body and mind, she couldn't stand to let herself feel so dependent on someone. Part of her knew that it would amount to nothing in the end and that she'd only end up more miserable than if she pushed him away. Besides, her security amounted to little more than an illusion as she had nearly killed him earlier, so in the end, maybe Kyle's presence eventually wouldn't even be enough to keep her from plummeting over the edge.

"I can't do this…" She mouthed those words, diverting her gaze to the floor. With a quick exhale, she stood up from her seat and began to push the table away from the door.

A groan froze her in her tracks. "Ronnie? You don't even want to stay for breakfast?"

"Kyle…" She knew he didn't hear her and in part was thankful for that. Why was it that the sound of his voice filled her with unparalleled dread as well as unbelievable tranquility?

Kyle got out of the bed and stumbled against the nearby wall before donning his pair of jeans. Obviously, the effects of the poison that had nearly taken his life the night before had mostly subsided. "Seriously though, where are you going? It's not particularly safe out there, in case you forgot."

Veronica had to tear her gaze away from him before her chest burst into flames from the sheer confliction she felt. "I can't do this."

"What do you mean?" If she had looked at him, she imagined that she would have saw his face contorted with the same amount of distress she heard in his voice. "You can't be serious, not after-"

"After what, Kyle!? What the hell is going on with us, with me!?" She took a deep breath and smashed her hands against the top of the table. "This isn't right! It's not fucking right! I hate you, don't you understand? I hate you and every goddamn thing you stand for!"

Apparently defeated by her harsh words, Kyle's uttered, "I know I said this before, but I really hope you don't do that with everyone that you hate."

"You don't-You don't understand!" Veronica shook her head, gritting her teeth together in a sad attempt to prevent herself from cracking.

"Then make me understand." It was one of the few instances where he managed to overcome his tendency to make an ass out of himself. "I'm not letting you run away from this." He paused briefly before adding, "I can't let you run away. I think you're the one who doesn't understand…"

Like a rabid animal cornered in her cage by a bunch of sadistic, prodding people, Veronica retaliated with, "You have NO control over me! None! I'm not staying here with you because I can't stand to be around you!"

"You're lying!" It was surreal to hear Kyle yell like that, losing any semblance to the joking, lighthearted man that had followed her around for days. His voice practically tore through her, making her want only to fall to her knees and cry. "You don't mean that, I know you don't. There's no way you could mean that!"

Veronica pushed the table out of in front of the door and stood up straight, keeping her eyes focused on the floor, so as not to catch a glimpse of Kyle on accident. "Yea!? Why not?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "Because if you did, nothing would have happened yesterday, or last night." He paused for a moment, apparently trying to clear his throat and find the courage to speak what had to be said, even though he had never run into such an issue before. Taking Veronica's arm, Kyle turned her towards him, an act that made her want to shove her knife against his throat. However, she kept her head bowed in utter shame and despair for having such a thought, allowing Kyle's hand to linger on her arm in a mixture of bittersweet pleasure and contempt. "Things like that don't just happen…"

"I am-" she caught herself mid reply and stumbled over her words. "I… was confused. Do you even have any idea what I'm going through?"

"You mean, the whole zombie apocalypse thing? Yea, I think so."

"No," she shook her head, allowing her bangs to fall in front of her face. "Fuck!" With a forced exhale, Veronica shut her eyes and yelled, "I'm sick, Kyle. I'm sick… so, fucking, sick… I almost killed you this morning!"

Silence.

He removed his hand from her arm and she felt her flesh instantly go cold. It physically pained her to continue speaking. "I… couldn't do anything to stop it… You're not safe with me."

Kyle offered a pitifully forced laugh. "I'm not safe without you either, Ronnie." He took a step towards her, ready to take her into his arms but Veronica took a step back, pressing against the door.

"Don't… don't touch me… I can't handle it right now." Why was she lying to him? She really only wanted to let go of herself and fall into his embrace. "I can't, and I won't see you hurt because of me… I don't want that on my conscience."

He took another step towards her, backing Veronica up against the door with nowhere to go. "I trust you. Do you know why?

She shook her head, not having the faintest idea as to why he would even tolerate such an abysmal, cold monster as herself.

"Because what happened yesterday doesn't just happen for no reason. There was something there, and I know you felt it because I did too." He sighed, letting out a weak exhale as if his words were actually chipping away at his insides as well. "Even if you were going to kill me this morning… you didn't."

"It was so hard."

"But you didn't do it."

"I don't know if I could keep control of myself…"

"But…" he trailed off, probably realizing the futility of his efforts to comfort Veronica. "So, what are you planning to do then, huh?"

"I can't stay with you, Kyle." She took a moment to glance up, peering through the strands of hair in front of her face. It didn't take long for the sight of disappointment and concern on Kyle's face to force her into diverting her gaze again. "I can't keep worrying about you, worrying that I might do something to you. I just… I can't deal with this." Veronica gritted her teeth and began to tremble, feeling the cold spot left on her arm from the absence of Kyle's touch begin to consume her body. "If we stay together, I know something will happen to you and I can't stand to think about that… Being alone terrifies me, Kyle. It scares me so much that I don't want to face any of this without you."

"Then don't." Kyle reached out to touch her cheek, but she turned away.

Shaking her head, all Veronica could muster to reply was, "It hurts so much to stay with you and be reminded of how much I feel like I need you. It sickens me."

Those words alone seemed to complete the brutal beat-down Veronica had initiated on Kyle's heart. The two remained silent for a good deal of time afterwards. Every now and then, Veronica would look up at Kyle and each time, she found him looking down on her with little more than concern hiding behind his eyes. Each time she saw that look, she fell ever more speechless and unsure of herself until, finally, her body had enough of lingering around in doubt. She couldn't stay there with him because she knew that, at any moment, she could plunge further into her madness and kill him as a byproduct of her loss of self control. His presence turned out to be far too much of a burden for her strained body to bear.

In one final, committed movement, Veronica tore her knife from her belt and threw it on top of the nearby table. Not five seconds later, she stripped off her magnum harness and removed all the magnum bullets from her vest, knowing full well that Kyle had no means of self defense. Keeping her sights on the weapons she had laid on the table for a moment, Veronica turned her attention to Kyle, staring directly into his eyes with nothing else but determination. Determination that encased her own fear and worry about the future.

Kyle only shook his head, ever disagreeing with Veronica's decision. She knew that he wanted nothing more than to take hold of her and keep her from walking out of that door, but in some odd way, she also knew that he respected her too much. That respect stayed his body and kept him frozen in unmoving turmoil.

"You will give me my knife back, do you understand?" It took a considerable amount of effort to keep her voice from cracking. "And I will never, ever forgive you if you die."

Kyle remained silent, perhaps too stricken with disbelief to offer much of an argument against her idea, let alone some sort of witty comment.

Pressing her back against the door, Veronica reached into her pocket for the key. "I'll… wait for you at Marcy's Diner, along Route 65…"

He went to say something but stopped short when Veronica turned her back to him in order to unlock the door. Before she even realized what she was doing, she had to door opened, letting the hell of the city fill the room that had acted as her temporary haven with Kyle for a single night. She imagined that he went to reach for her as she walked out of the room, practically hoping to feel his hand on her arm once more, but it never happened.

Her last words to him were, "I left you something in the table drawer."

Then, she was gone.

Kyle stood in the room, staring at the open doorway for what could only have been countless minutes. In sheer, defeated silence, he closed the door and allowed the terrifying staleness of the room begin to consume him. He had no idea how empty the world could have felt without Veronica near him and all he wanted to do was chase after her, but he knew that he couldn't. He knew that she had made up her mind and he felt helpless to prevent her from leaving. Even if he had pursued her, he doubted that she would have changed her mind.

When his rapidly beating heart and racing mind managed to calm down, he walked around the table and ran his hand over Veronica knife, letting out a lost, dying sigh. Eventually, his hand worked its way to the drawer and opened it. What he saw inside made his eyes go wide and a smile force its way across his lips.

He picked up the turkey sub and began to laugh, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "I do believe I'm falling for this girl."

"I won't say it again. Wake up."

Damien drifted back into consciousness, feeling quite certain that Billy never even said "Wake up," prior to his last statement. Sitting up, he found his commander sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the bed. An assortment of what could have only been random clutter surrounded him, such as a few wrappers, an empty box of energy bars, a bottle of water and a small collection of ammunition to guns that neither of them carried.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Damien rubbed his eyes and began to ask, "What are you doing?" However, Billy stood up and cut him off.

"We're going to the park."

With that, the stern, apparently emotionless commander began to approach the doorway, stopping only after Damien changed his question to, "Why? I would really like to know what we're doing. I'm not a huge fan of blindly following orders."

To that, he replied, "It was night and the rain fell. Falling, I feel the rain, but having fallen, I feel only blood." He began to open the door. "Do not question me or your time shall come sooner than it should."

Then, he was gone.

Damien sat in the room, staring at the open doorway for what could have been countless minutes, but in reality, were only seconds. In sheer, defeated silence, he closed his eyes and allowed the terrifying staleness of the room begin to consume him. He finally felt convinced that any choice in any sort of matters had slipped through his grasp. He had become a pawn to Billy's and Umbrella's sick games. With a hollow sigh, he stood up and rummaged through a small pocket to retrieve his communication device. Before following in Billy's footsteps, fearing that doing so and not doing so would both lead to his death, Damien contacted Patricia and told her to stay ready for an emergency pick up.

If things ended up getting far too out of hand, Damien had no qualms about bailing, regardless of what it would mean about his pay. Anything would have been worthwhile to escape Billy's domineering, relentless insanity.


	36. Part 35

Kyle felt positive that if there ever existed a record for the fastest time a man has consumed an entire, foot long turkey sub, he had just smashed such a record to bits. No sooner did he allow his worries to drown beneath the succulent, several day-old meat, lettuce, tomato and Italian bread than did the entire sandwich disappear from his grasp. He recalled walking to take a seat on the bed where he and Veronica had spent the night, submitting his conscious self to her decision to separate, and then there was nothing. The sandwich was but a memory lingering on his tongue, leaving him alone once more.

Just as thoughts of Veronica began to flood back into his mind, Kyle found himself uttering, "But damn was that a good sandwich."

Of course, soon even that memory failed to satisfy him. Without missing a beat, Kyle left the security of the bed that had spawned a slew of emotions and bittersweet memories, and approached the table where Veronica had left her knife and magnum. He focused his attention on the closed door for but a moment, almost waiting for something on the other side to make its presence known, but only silence replied to his paranoia. Figuring that he couldn't afford to waste much time, as sitting in a hospital would actually do very little in aiding his escape from the city, Kyle attached Veronica's knife to his belt and slipped the magnum harness over his shoulders and chest. Stuffing what he could of the ammunition into his pockets, he wasted no time in bracing the doorknob, readying himself once again to face the horrors of the city.

"Right," he stopped himself before blundering out into the hallway. "Some sort of game plan would help, wouldn't it?" His words fell upon his ears, and only his ears, for Kyle was never one to stay his tongue even if no one else would hear him speak. It kept him at ease and in control, allowing him to focus on situations more clearly than if he allowed his thoughts to eat him from the inside out. "If she's heading towards the highway, I can probably meet her on the other side of the park and then just follow her out of the city… I suppose I'll have a one out of three chance of picking the direction she chose, though after what happened yesterday, I can't imagine she'd be willing to go straight through the park." He laughed after his voice fell completely silent, realizing full well that it'd be impossible for him to predict much of anything Veronica would do. "Kyle J. Cruise, zombie killer and stalker extraordinaire!"

The door shut behind him as his footfalls fell against the quiet air of the hospital, locking whatever he shared with Veronica within that one room. Perhaps, in an odd way, that door would stay shut and allow his memories of the previous night to remain untainted and whole for the rest of eternity. As much as Kyle wanted to believe that, however, he knew that he couldn't continue lingering behind that door, trapped within those walls. The veil of temporary peace had to lift from his eyes so that he could hope to rejoin Veronica once again, somewhere far from Raccoon City.

"Dead bodies, check." Kyle nodded his head as he approached the staircase leading to the first floor, passing the body of the nurse that Veronica had put to eternal slumber the night before. "Glad to see that things never change."

Moments later, Kyle was forced to eat his words as he stumbled upon a pile of goo-covered eggs forming in the corner of the first landing. Several small, slimy leech-like creatures slithered down the wall to congregate at the pile of unnatural slime, without a doubt in an attempt to forge more of their unholy army. Luckily, they seemed far too preoccupied with whatever sort of mating ritual they took part in to take much notice of Kyle's presence as he crept past. Daring not to utter a solitary word, deciding to leave fornicating hell spawn to their own devices, he chalked the entire encounter up on the "Things to Never Think About Again" chalkboard and continued on his way.

No sooner did he reach the main floor, however, did he notice one of the critters crawling up the side of his pants. With determination to smite anything far weaker than himself burning in his eyes, Kyle glared down at the leech-like creature and said, "Oh, you little bastard," right before smacking the thing to floor. Then, with only a faint hiss, it had a pleasant meeting with the bottom of Kyle's shoe, leaving nothing but a gooey mess in its wake.

Taking care to wipe off the extra slime from the bottom of his shoe onto the shirt of a nearby corpse, not wanting to accidently slip at the most inopportune moment, Kyle continued to the front doors of the hospital. At this point in time, the sight of several unmoving bodies ceased to make much of an impact on him. He vaguely recalled Veronica laying some of the mindless beasties to rest in that area while he stood on the line between consciousness and deep, numbing sleep. Then again, he mused, such a scene of surreal madness could have existed solely in his mind as a nightmare brought on by the venom.

A gunshot broke through the air as soon as Kyle pressed his hands against the shockingly cool front doors. Stopping in place, he fell still and looked through the glass doors to the outside streets, noting the lack of rotten corpses roaming around with a mixture of relief, "Good, I'm not going to get mauled on my way out," and deep concern, "So… What killed all the zombies and how long until I run into one of them?" He began to count the seconds while waiting for another gunshot, knowing far too well that the sheer impact of the noise meant that it couldn't belong to either of Veronica's handguns. If he had to guess, he would have attributed its source to some sort of shotgun or rifle.

"Great," he muttered, ever eager to keep himself as a companion regardless of how close to insane speaking to himself made him appear. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that the guys with guns aren't going to be up to grabbing lunch with me."

Another gunshot rang through the doors, thudding against Kyle's eardrums like a giant's footstep in the far distance. He continued to wait, letting his recent distrust of people with guns keep his feet secured in place. Every breath he took started to fog up the glass in front of his face, forcing him to wipe away the condensation every few breaths. Only after what felt like an eternity alone with his thoughts did two figures come into view in front of the hospital. An unarmed man in a grey uniform led a second uniformed man with one gun in his hands and another strapped to his back. It took a bit of willpower to refrain from approaching them and keep his innate desire to surround himself with others at bay.

After the two men passed out of sight, Kyle ventured out of the hospital, leaving its depths for some other forsaken travelers to stumble upon and wade through. Taking it slow, he approached the street, looking off in the direction that the uniformed men had disappeared into just in time to see their figures weaving through the mechanical heaps of vehicles that littered the street. Again, the urge to speak up and make his presence known rose in his chest, but a swift assurance that calling to the men would only lead to more trouble put his desire to rest and forced him to turn in the other direction. He had no idea which direction Veronica had opted to go in order to reach the other side of the park, as he felt sure was still her destination, but such a decision hardly mattered anymore. Following the uniformed men, he figured would, "only lead to a display of gunplay, the likes of which would probably leave me nearly headless with a sizeable chunk torn from my chest. And I'm a huge fan of my head and chest, thank you." Glancing down at his equipment, he shook his head. "Never bring a knife to a gunfight, that's what my grand-pappy always told me. Well, that and," he cleared his throat and did his best impersonation of an old man, regardless that no living creature would be able to watch his performance, "'Never trust a woman with big tits until you've gotten a firm hold on them and have made sure they're real. Now be a good lad and fetch me a beer. I'm in the mood to make your grandmother look attractive again.'"

Laughing to himself, as the laughter seemed to keep the smothering silence and stillness of the street from strangling him to death, flashbacks of his and Veronica's trek to the hospital the night before popped into his mind. Every few buildings that he passed offered a familiar glimpse back to a short bout of consciousness with Veronica doing what she could to carry him along. Eventually, he recalled the run in with the large, deformed creature and, subsequently, the rifle he must have left behind. After making his way through the mess of the immobile metallic corpses of vehicles and forever-motionless human bodies, trying to recall the location of the battle, he finally stumbled across the large body of flesh and muscle, resting in eternal death once and for all.

"And now's the part where it gets up and attacks me, right?" With little more than unease on his mind, Kyle scanned the vicinity for his rifle, never truly taking his attention too far away from the massive body of unnatural spite lying on the ground. After what amounted to little more than a meager search, as the lack of moving undead and the nearby corpse of a creature Kyle had no desire to watch stand up once more did nothing to aid his worried mind, he gave up looking for the gun. It would only be later that he'd assume the uniformed man with two guns had swiped his rifle, immediately forcing Kyle to call said individual a, "selfish, inconsiderate twatwaffle."

Continuing down the street, wishing to put a great deal of distance between him and the creature that had hunted him and Veronica, it wasn't long before he once again spoke aloud to himself. "Avoid scary men with guns: Check. Try to find more firepower to no avail: Check. Avoid getting my head crushed by a pissed off, reanimated monster: Double check." He made his way around a decapitated corpse, stepping onto the sidewalk, not for a moment considering how little the sight of a headless body affected him. "Now, I just need to walk around the entire park… No problem, right?" With a short laugh, he threw his gaze up towards the sky and added, "Unless God wants to fuck around some more. How 'bout it, big guy?"

Hours later, God's wrath would fall upon Kyle like a hailstorm of flaming, exploding boulders. After weaving his way along the street that bordered the edge of the park, finding mostly the bodies of the recently re-deceased laying in his path, he turned a corner to continue his trek around the perimeter of the park. As if taunting him, a single crow perched upon an entirely useless phone line cawed as he walked by. With each abrupt, rude noise the black bird let out into the air, Kyle could only imagine the creature throwing out a slew of insults at him in bird-tongue. Eventually, he flipped the little devil-incarnate off and, surprisingly, it stopped cawing for about three seconds, possibly stunned by his display of annoyance and frustration. Then, of course, it started up again, ever determined to have its feral cries burrow forever into Kyle's brain.

"I swear," he muttered as he made his way around a car, leaving a lone zombie to struggle its way around the vehicle in order to reach him. "When I make it out of this mess, I am taking up bird hunting."

The cawing stopped.

"Yea, you heard me! Every weekend, me and my rifle are going out to the woods looking for feathery bastards to shoot down from the sky. Then, you know what?"

Silence.

"I'm going to eat the bodies because revenge tastes so sweet basted in honey barbeque sauce." Kyle licked his lips, feeling certain that he had caught the crow's attention. "I like my bird with an extra helping of IRONY!"

The bitter air spoke, "Irony!" in echo, each last call fading into nothing more than the last until only the sound of a crow's wings fluttering remained. Then, without so much as a solitary caw to say goodbye, the black demon-bird was gone, most likely off to harass some other poor individual roaming the streets of Raccoon City.

"Yea! You better run-Er, fly! Whatever!" Kyle waved his fist in the air as if attempting to bend the forces of nature to his whims and smite the bird from the sky with a lightning bolt.

For a moment, the rumbling beneath his feet didn't even seem real. Kyle stumbled over his curses towards the disappearing crow, taken by surprise at the faint vibrations running up his legs. Next, everything fell still, save for the few wandering zombies still shuffling along, lost within the river of unmoving metal that had become the street. Looking towards the buildings lining the side of the street to his left, then the expanse of park at his right, Kyle had all of five seconds to realize that he had inadvertently stumbled across something to make his day exponentially worse. The rumbling in the ground started up again, this time exerting stronger vibrations through his legs. By the third mini-earthquake, he began to run.

"I don't know what the hell is going on," he uttered to himself in between breaths, "but given this city's track record, I'm pretty sure that I don't want to find out."

Sliding over the hood of a car, Kyle avoided one of the nearby animates, allowing the mindless creature to fall to the ground following its pitiful display of dexterity. As if the city had developed some twisted form of a heart, the tremors continued in a rhythm, occurring almost every few footsteps that Kyle took. It didn't take too long for the sounds of the earth breaking beneath the force of the quakes to become like small explosions. Before Kyle could so much as yell out from his near collision with a zombie, the metaphoric heart finally burst. From the cracked rubble of the street and the dirt-debris of the nearby park emerged a large, mud-covered worm, four long, over-sized, sharp mandibles protruding from a circular mouth at its head. The creature stood like a tower of decayed, pale, pulsating flesh filled only with rage and hunger.

Another one of those rare, almost never heard of occasions struck once again. Kyle fell utterly speechless, save for a single, solitary curse that managed to slip through his lips before fear and sheer hopelessness seized his body. "Fuck…"


	37. Part 36

"Do you know what death sounds like? What it is to feel your final breath leave your lungs before falling into the vast brinks of nothingness that await while God judges the worth of your soul?" His blade left the unthinking, hunger-driven body, allowing it to fall to the ground and embrace Death's touch once and for all. "When you suffocate, not from the lack of air but from the lack of your ability to draw it in… you hear bells. They ring in the distance like a wind chime, promising to return you to a small cottage in the country where only fields and love wait for you." His sword retracted into its mechanical sheath and he turned his head towards the sky, as if seeking a celestial being at which to direct his speech. "It's only later that your realize those were Hell's bells, welcoming you through its gates and back to life."

Damien had done little more than stand idle as Billy made quick work of the fragile bodies that had roamed the street. All too quickly, it became obvious that he didn't even need to bother spending ammunition on most of the undead they encountered. Awe became Billy's liquid movements and blood became his uniform, as if delicately thought out and woven by the most sick and twisted of designers.

"Soon, you too shall hear those bells. Even though the boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague, you will not be blessed with returning to Hell… Such blessing is fit only for gods." He paused for a moment, wiping the blood from his fingertips down the length of his uniform, stopping just above his waist. "Know that while you sleep, I shall feast upon the void left by your departure. This is your use and your fate. Accept it or don't, you shall sleep."

With those words said, matching the dread madness of the world's most hollow and forsaken banshees, Billy continued down the street, never once bothering to glance over his shoulder and examine the paralyzed shell of Damien. Far too confused and stricken by the fuzzy implications behind his squad leader's words, it proved near impossible for him to make out much of any meaning outside of the fact that Billy had foretold his death. Even as Billy walked off, Damien's eyes found the time to absorb the sight of gore and blood that littered the ground, almost as if a vortex straight to Hell had opened in the sky, letting it rain liquid nightmare upon the earth. Perhaps, Damien found himself thinking, that was what Billy actually embodied: A fragment of Hell that had found a way to materialize on earth. He was no god. He was a demon.

A sudden clang snapped Damien's concerns in half, allowing the gloss of fear and shock to depart from his eyes. Reacting to the noise, his attention shot to his right just in time to see the animate corpse of a young woman crawling from the now-opened door of a nearby car. Its body fell like a ragdoll, but after overcoming the initial impact of flopping to the ground, the corpse continued to crawl towards Damien, ever eager to push beyond the limitations of death to fill its unnatural craving for flesh. The absence held by its pale eyes as well as the sickening, simplistic hunger within its soft moans led Damien to think, for but a moment, that Billy belonged within the city, to rule as king of the damned.

A single shotgun blast removed the zombie's skull from its body, granting it permission to lie dormant until the crows decide to swoop down and feast upon it. Just before running after his acting leader, Damien wondered if the woman whose body he had just decapitated ever heard those bells, and if so, if they were loud and commanding or soft and sweet.

Finally catching up to Billy, who stood still at an entrance to Raccoon City Park, Damien found himself beginning to ask, "Where are we going?" but caught himself shortly after the first word left his lips. He had no idea why or how Billy was navigating through the city, but at this point, he knew better than to question him and his motives, lest he toy too much with the madness of a natural born killer. Like it or not, Damien had to reconcile with the fact that he had become a lackey and any attempt to escape his bondage would most likely result in an unpleasant meeting with Billy's blade or once on his own, falling to the servants of Hell who claimed Raccoon City as their new home. Until he could manage to issue a pick-up point to Patricia somewhere that he felt certain he could safely reach unnoticed, there could be no escape from Billy's command.

Before Billy started moving again, Damien could have sworn he heard him utter, "I can see the trail of blood you leave in your wake, Prospero. Try as you might, you cannot hide from the Red Death."

Walking along the path through the park offered a brief retrieve from the overbearing air of the city. While the greenery of the park still flaunted its fair share of gory décor, it did offer a faint semblance of peace. However, Damien couldn't imagine the park being all that humble, always staying on guard despite the relatively wide disbursement of undead. At any given moment, he half expected some deformed beast to jump from its perch on a tree and attack, but all he found were the ever-watchful scorn of crows and the roaming undead, lost within the vast maze of the park. Any hordes that stood directly along the path proved little trouble for Billy, who wasted no time in hacking them to bits and moving on.

Surprisingly, Billy ceased a few paces from a cobblestone bridge. Like some sort of trained dog, Damien stopped behind him, listening as he spoke. "They expect us to go over the bridge. See? They've laid traps upon the ground." Billy offered a brief chuckle before adding, "I almost admire their diligence in clutching on to instincts so tightly, but I pity them for thinking me as nothing but a fly." Looking over his shoulder, catching Damien's eyes with his cold, dead gaze, Billy grinned and forced shivers to run up Damien's arms and legs. "Come. Let us finish the job that my dear, sweet Prospero failed to accomplish."

Even as Billy's hand embraced his sword, extending the blade in but an instant, Damien could only shake his head and quietly ask to himself, "Prospero? Prospero… Who the hell is Prospero?"

When Damien's attention returned to his squad leader, who had walked knee deep into the stream running underneath the bridge, a large mass took Billy to the ground, sending a cascade of water up like a fountain. No sooner did Damien begin to move in order to offer so sort of assistance than Billy kicked the abnormally large spider off himself, standing to his feet as if he hadn't just been attacked by a spider the size of a large dog. The water turned green from the arachnid's blood and even though Damien probably should have been somewhat concerned about Billy's state of health, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the still-twitching body of the creature. Slowly but surely, each of the creatures limbs began to fail until only one of its front most legs gently tore through the air in some pitiful attempt to keep hold of its miserable existence.

"Amazing, huh?" Billy's words wound around Damien's mind and seized his attention. The giant spider stopped moving. "They become so strong with the virus while mankind dwindles away to nothing. Tell me," he took a step towards the small tunnel underneath the cobblestone bridge, "What does that say about people, to have their existence turned to that of fragile, mindless drones while common spiders bask in the benefits of increase strength and durability?"

Even though a few lonesome zombies had made their way to the vicinity, slowly creeping up on Damien, he couldn't so much as think to remove Billy from his sight out of an intense feeling that, if he did, the man would sneak up behind him and dig into his mind with tendrils of pure, wretched insanity. It proved impossible to tell among the all the nearby monsters if Billy were not the worst of them all.

"Maybe it says that they are little more than flies."

Billy disappeared under the bridge, followed by the sound of metal scraping against stone. Once again, Damien felt compelled to offer what little aid he could, except a lifeless moan caused him to turn around and face the undead horror that stood mere inches from him. The creature reached out in an attempt to give Damien one final, bloody hug but the side of the corpse's face met with the butt of his shotgun. Taking a few steps backwards, towards the stream, he dispatched two of the other nearby zombies. There may have only been about five animate corpses attempting to hone in on him, but in his mind, still embraced Billy's haunting words, he began to feel utterly paranoid, imagining the beasts rising from the very ground around his feet until all he felt up to his knees was the cold touch of the stream.

After one of many gunshots, the sound of splashing through the water let Damien know that something had crept up behind him. With about as much dexterity as his frantic mind would allow him to muster, he spun around, aiming his shotgun at head level, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

"Miscount?" Billy asked, facing down the barrel of Damien's shotgun, his uniform decorated with streaks of dark green blood.

Nothing but stillness and silence moved from behind Damien. The zombies had been delivered to their eternal rest by his personal, mechanical scythe. "Y-yea…" It seemed amazing that he even managed to get the one word out considering Billy stood not two feet in front of him.

"Do I disturb you?" Billy stepped to the side and took a step towards Damien, who hadn't so much as budged since pulling the trigger. Silence dictated his fear and, somehow, he knew that Billy could feel it. His face still expressionless, he whispered, "I hear your heart beating beneath your chest and the drumming… is maddening. Should I come clean of my sins, or let you die in ignorance?" His blade shot back into its hilt and he took a swift step back and began to walk across the stream, calling back to Damien only to say, "Die ignorant. It's in your nature."

It took a few moments for Damien to push beside the fear that seized control of his body. Perhaps, in the end, it was mostly the fear that the undead would soon swarm him again that caused him to continue following Billy, leaving him feeling exposed and naked without the master-killer's blade watching his back. Even when he caught up to the squad leader, he remained silent and several feet behind him. Everything in the city seemed to have turned against him and despite his years of training and working with Umbrella, he knew that he couldn't handle something on this scale. Billy was right and if he didn't leave soon, he knew that he would meet his end within the city.

Before Damien could contemplate leaving to contact Patricia and set up an extraction point, the two Umbrella agents came across a small clearing in the park. A fountain stood in the center of the clearing, inactive and just as dead as everything else. What seemed to catch Billy's attention, however, was a backpack resting atop one of the benches set around the edge of the fountain. Damien followed him towards the bench, stopping only when a deep growl entered the previously quiet air, followed by a bark. As if to confirm his theory that everything within Raccoon City wanted to see him dead, a small pack consisting of three mangled, bloodied dogs entered the clearing from nearby brush.

The creatures wasted no time in charging at the agents, but in the end, they met the same fate as everything else that stood in Billy's way. This time, however, Damien had the opportunity to aid in the combat, even if it was only to save himself after one of the three dogs veered off from Billy to attack him. Still, the entire ordeal ended in only a few moments and before Damien could even so much as wrap his mind around exactly what had transpired, Billy approached the backpack once more, not even remotely phased by the incident.

Crouching down in front of the bench, as if he were about to pray, Billy ran his hands up the sides of the bag and then fell still. Damien could only watch in awkward silence. If he hadn't started to think Billy nigh unkillable, he might have considered the idea that Billy simply shut down. However, the killing machine did begin moving once more, giving Damien just enough time to kick himself for not deciding to leave the bastard on his own and seek a way out of the city. Letting his blade extend from the hilt once more, Billy destroyed the backpack and all of its contents, throwing the shredded remains into the dark waters of the fountain before turning to walk down the very path that they had used to walk through the park.

"Now we're turning around?" As soon as the last word left his lips, Damien wished that he had simply remained silent.

Billy stopped in place for a moment, obviously listening to Damien's question. However, without so much as a single utterance in reply, he continued moving. Without a doubt, he knew that Damien would follow. Standing alone in the city did not rest well with him and as much as Billy made his skin crawl, he had no other option.

Retracing their steps, it didn't seem to take long before the two Umbrella agents returned to the Raccoon City's streets. There wasn't a doubt in Damien's mind that Billy knew precisely where they were heading. Even though he had no idea as to how the man continued to come up with directions to their 'prey,' he didn't really have much of a choice but to follow. It crossed his mind every now and then that Billy may have fallen into complete madness and partook in leading him through the city on a wild goose chase. When Billy revealed that a nearby hospital was their next destination, a faint glimmer of hope lit within Damien. He figured that he could use the roof of the hospital as a pickup point, provided that he found a way to get enough distance between himself and Billy to call Patricia without his knowing.

"Recognize it?" Billy asked, having stopped inside a very small clearing in the center of the street, the broken vehicles circling it like some sort of apocalyptic arena.

Approaching Billy's side, a mess of deformed, bloodied flesh lying on the ground caught Damien's attention. "N-no… Sorry."

"It's one of the tyrants released into the city. Mass produced to carry out Umbrella's desires…" He crouched down next to the body, running his fingertips along what appeared to be the creature's arm. "Pitiful and disgusting. I hope the undead have their way with it for failing."

As Billy began moving again, mumbling something to himself about Prospero, Damien took a moment to retrieve a rifle from the ground nearby, as well as a couple extra clips of ammunition that the previous owner of the gun had apparently dropped. Strapping the rifle around his back, feeling slightly more secure and sure of himself, Damien ran to catch up to Billy. It wouldn't be too long before he would wish that he hadn't.

After a few minutes of walking, slaying the occasional undead in their path, Billy raised an open hand, issuing Damien to stop moving. Silently, he pointed off in the distance where a small figure moved through the street, avoiding the few undead that had yet to meet Billy's blade. It proved impossible to make out any sort of detail about the figure. Before Damien could ask about it, wondering why it concerned Billy so much, the squad leader lowered his arm and continued walking. Defeated and confused, Damien once again followed suit. The two agents ended up following this figure for a few blocks, passing the hospital on their way, until finally the figure dodged a small horde of undead by running into an alley. It was a survivor.

"You… can't be serious…" Damien had to stop walking as soon as he managed to catch a good look at the entity up close, trapped between a truck blocking off the other end of the alley and the two agents.

He couldn't have been much older than fourteen. His skin looked scuffed and dirtied, no doubt scarred by life on the streets since Raccoon City became a living hell. While holding a sense of cold distance within his eyes, he stared at Billy and Damien with the faintest amount of hope. He began to speak, probably asking for some sort of help, but his words were lost to Damien.

"We weren't sent on an elimination mission!" Damien began to yell, standing still in fearful defiance as Billy took a few quiet steps towards the young survivor. For a brief second, he wondered if this kid was the Prospero that Billy continued to go on about. All this time, had they only been looking for some living person to slaughter like an animal simply for surviving through Umbrella's horror? "He's probably been through a lot! It's not fair for us to-"

"Fair?" Billy mused, unlatching the hilt of his blade from his belt. He glanced over his shoulder at Damien, still expressionless and cold. "Hell was never meant to be fair... Raining warm, pure blood… It does wonders to replace the longing of a lover's embrace."

"That's why you're going to kill him!?" Damien yelled, his words sending the kid into a fit of desperation as he began to run down the alley. "Just to satisfy some sick blood lust!?" Why wasn't he moving to defend the young survivor's life? Why hadn't he drawn his gun? Did he truly fear Billy that much?

Returning his attention to the fleeing kid, Billy pressed the button to send his blade tearing through the air. "Blame God."


	38. Part 37

She stopped at the top of the stairs, staring down her immediate descent while expecting to hear the sound of a door flying open behind her, followed by the rapid footsteps of a distraught, concerned man. However, neither of those noises met Veronica's expectations and filled the air, leaving her alone with her doubt and the faint, distant reminders that new undead souls had made their way into the first floor of the building. Despite how much her body wanted to move on, it seemed nearly impossible for her to urge herself to continue. At any moment, she expected to feel Kyle tear her away from her decision to leave. In fact, she even began to want him to burst from the room and stop her, but he never did, leaving her with the bitter, poisonous thought that, in the end, he simply didn't care. Somehow, that thought alone seemed far worse than the hell she had decided to submit herself to in order to preserve both what remained of her sanity and his life.

Feeling the walls of the building begin to close in on her with every second that she lingered on her thought of Kyle's unconcern, Veronica let the air dissipate from her lungs and began to descend the stairs. It took considerably more willpower than she would have thought to keep herself from turning back and correcting what she continued to feel was a terrible decision on her part. As luck, if one wished to call it that, would have it, on her way down the stairs, her hand ran over a collection of thick slime, which did wonders for tearing her mind away from its latest issue. It was amazing how quickly having her hand covered in disgusting, cold goop managed to turn her mind away through sheer annoyance. Only after flicking the substance onto a nearby wall did she realize more of those leech-like creatures had swarmed the landing, congregating in corner.

The first thought to cross Veronica's mind depicted turning the mass of squirmy creatures into a dense pile of goo and shredded body remains. Even more disturbing, however, resided in her reasoning against kneeling down and hacking the creatures to death with her wrist blade. It would have taken far too long to kill them all. It would only come to her later how stupid of a notion it was even to consider slaying them all.

Reaching the base of the stairs, two undead horrors confronted Veronica, leading her to wonder if they were recent additions to the hospital walls or if she had simply missed them the night before. Regardless, she knew that she could bypass them, edging their none-existent minds into reaching out to grab her and then using her superior dexterity to her advantage, but that wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't what she needed. Her frail mind trembled beneath her current emotional state and bloodshed was the only thing that could seal her wounds and put her at ease. So desperately she craved the fall of blood, to lose herself to adrenaline and instinct, that the entire decision to fight instead of flee occurred in but a fraction of a second. Just as quickly, it ended and two bodies laid at her feet as testaments to how deranged she had become.

"Oh god…" she muttered to herself after the battle-induced high wore off. "Why… Why does it feel so good?" Biting into her lower lip, clutching her hands closed, Veronica looked down on the pool of rotten blood forming around the decayed bodies. "What is this city doing to me?"

"Freeing me," she answered herself, her gaze frozen on the creatures she had slain. "I've always been like this, but I couldn't have ran around killing people before this, now could I? It's the perfect excuse."

Forcing her eyes closed in a sad attempt at forcing the bloody image from her mind, Veronica shook her head and crossed her arms, digging her fingers into her shoulders as she felt her insides writhe and churn. The walls of the building began to close in around her and despite it being day, the interior shadows began to wrap around and consume her. "I… I have to get out of here… have to get out…"

The next thing she knew was the cool air of Raccoon City and the sweet embrace of daylight against her pale, cold flesh. She stood still long enough to enjoy the momentary peace of escaping the dense, sickeningly comfortable air of the hospital. It didn't take long for thoughts to start tearing through her mind once again when all she wanted was solitude. Every thought of Kyle drilled a hole further into her chest and made her crave the thrill of combat once again in order to put the pain at ease. In the end, the only way she could avoid tearing herself apart on the inside and letting her mind go into a fit of crazed bloodlust was to dash off towards the park. Not once did she give any concern to the undead that roamed the street or what perils the park stood to offer. She needed a destination to work towards, anything to keep her mind clouded over for the time being. It was only after running into the depths of the park and losing herself within the greenery that she remembered leaving Muguil's laptop, the only concrete evidence she had against Umbrella, by the fountain. She still craved retribution against the pharmaceutical company for what it had put her through.

Almost as soon as Veronica switched her game plan from dashing straight through the park to retrieving her backpack, she stumbled over a root and fell face first into the ground. Even though several mobile entities of decay wandered the nearby area, she found it difficult to push herself up. While her chest throbbed from the impact, the touch of the cool, slightly damp grass against her skin became like a comforting mattress. For a few moments, she even felt the ground vibrate beneath her, as if trying to ease all the tenseness out from her body. At one point, she fell so far as to crave for any one of the nearby zombies to catch her scent and take her away from the world so that she might find peace once and for all.

"Got to move," she found herself mouthing the words, hearing nothing but the distant moans of the undead. "Need to stand up."

"Or I could just lie here awhile longer, maybe close my eyes." The ground continued to massage her worn body and she felt almost as if the earth took hold of her being and cradled her.

Breathing in the sweet smell of dew in lengthy, drawn out gasps, she whispered aloud, "No… no… I can't stay… can't… I have to go."

"I have to go kill some more."

"That's not what I meant…"

"But it's what I want."

"I wish Kyle were here."

"He doesn't give a damn about me."

A pair of legs appeared standing in front of her. They were bare and scarred, bruises at the ankles and cuts running up the calves. A moan carried through the air above her, like a soft melody whispered by a loving mother and Veronica felt inclined to respond to the lullaby by closing her eyes and drifting away to sleep.

Red became the flesh of her hands and she stood over yet another corpse. She held her open, trembling hands before her eyes, staring at the blood that covered them in a twisted daze, almost as if she were feeding off the sight and smell of the wretched liquid. It was only the faintest of movements coming from behind that pulled her attention away from her hands. In one swift motion, Veronica spun around, springing her blade from her wrist just in time to feed it to the open-mouthed horror that had attempted to grab her. Stunned from the knife jammed up the roof of its mouth, Veronica took the opportunity to seize the top of the creature's skull with her free hand, remove her blade from its mouth and begin repeatedly stabbing it in the throat until she managed to twist its skull from its body, letting the headless corpse fall to the ground like an organic blood fountain.

The skull once belonged to what appeared to have been an older man, his hair once having begun to grey but was then dyed red with the blood of his latest meals. Even without a body to function, its mouth continued to move, as if attempting to cast one final, inaudible curse upon Veronica before being claimed by Death. Then, finally, it went still and Veronica dropped it to the ground, taking enjoyment at the heavy, lifeless thud it offered as it bounced against the earth.

Having no idea as to her location within the park did little to slow down Veronica's movements following her brief confrontation with the undead. Her battle-lull soon became a travel-lull as she navigated through the park, each path she stumbled across leading her further into unfamiliar territory. If she hadn't become so driven to reclaim Muguil's backpack out of spite for Umbrella, she would have probably realized the futility to her efforts at locating the specific fountain she left it near. However, in her mind, having some sort of goal was all that stood between herself and falling into a vortex of depressing, twisted thoughts.

While she never went out of her way to find an animate corpse to slay, any unfortunate zombie that found itself in her direct path soon found a swift re-death. On one occasion, one of the zombified dogs attempted to sneak up on her. As it leapt from a set of bushes alongside the pathway that Veronica was walking down, she thought it cute of the beast to try to get the drop on her. Stepping to the side, dodging its initial attempt to pounce on her, Veronica drew her handguns and fired a series of shots into the dog, sending it to the ground with yelp. She watched the creature struggle to get back on its feet as she reloaded her guns, only to finally give up and collapse. Part of her wanted to pity the fallen beast, but she had no time or will to waste on it, choosing instead to walk away and wonder if that was really the best the city had to throw at her.

As she approached a walkway constructed over a manmade pond, Veronica found herself asking, "How long have I been walking? I'm hopelessly lost, aren't I?"

"Yet I feel sorrier for the hell spawn that stand in my way than I do for myself."

She ascended the small series of steps that led up to the wooden walkway, looking ahead in a mixture of delight and repulsion at the couple of undead that stood in a feeble attempt at blocking off the walkway. "I can still turn back, can't I?" she asked, even though she had no true intents on retreating. Even if she never found the laptop, she was determined to show that the park couldn't defeat her despite how hard it tried.

"No," she licked her lips and twisted her wrist, sending out her blade without so much as a second thought. "No turning back. No running. I will not be Kyle's emotional bitch."

"Maybe I was wrong…" She never actually spoke those words, but heard them all the same as her blade cut through the closest zombie's throat. No sooner did the undead creature fall than she turned her attention to the second one, standing several feet off in the distance, completely oblivious to how she dominated the first of its kind.

Stopping just short of lunging out and slaying her next victim, Veronica's gaze shot to the water at the side of the walkway. "Something in the water…" she found herself uttering, even though she saw noting moving beneath the surface.

By this point, the second zombie had closed in and took initiative. Veronica held the creature back with her arm, struggling to hold off its attack while reaching for Rose Red. Before shoving the barrel of her gun into its open, salivating mouth, she took a moment to gaze into its lifeless, pale eyes, nearly seeing her reflection where she should have seen some semblance of a soul. Then she pulled the trigger and it was no more, hollow husk of a human being or not. It was no more.

Two steps after leaving the body of her latest victory, taking in deep breaths in order to quell the growing satisfaction of killing that welled within her, a splash followed by a thud caused her to stop in place. Next, a hiss-like screech filled the air, drawing Veronica's attention over her shoulder. A blue skinned, roughly five-foot tall frog-like creature stood behind her. Hunched over, its large, webbed hands, adorned with small claws at the fingertips hung at its side and its large, wide-open mouth opened and closed, letting croaking sounds escape from its throat. Closing its mouth, it drew its attention to Veronica, reeled back and then leapt through the air, its arm pulled back as if ready to tear her head clean from her shoulders. Luckily enough, she managed to spring herself backwards, watching as the amphibian creature cut through thin air.

"What the hell are you?" Veronica asked, almost expecting some sort of answer from the creature. Instead, it replied with another battle cry and began to walk towards her, its webbed feet flapping against the wooden walkway with each step.

Aiming Rose Red at the creature, keeping her wrist blade ready, she fired a few shots, all of which did little more than agitate the monster. Once she finished unloading what remained of her clip into it, the creature dashed at her, swiping one of its large, webbed hands through the air. Dodging the attack, Veronica countered with her blade, stabbing the large amphibian in the arm. Of course, she had little time to remove the blade before it backhanded her, knocking her to the side, against the railing of the walkway. With most of the air forcefully pushed out of her lungs, Veronica found herself too busy coughing to put distance between her and her opponent, who quickly wrapped its hands around her body and lifted her off the ground, opening its massive mouth, ready to devour her whole.

Staring down the pulsating throat of the creature, panic took over Veronica's body. Her heart desperately pumped blood through her veins and she screamed in a mixture of fear and rage, kicking her legs in a futile attempt to break the creature's grasp. Its grasp crushed her arms against her body, making it even more difficult for her to breathe until even her screams fell silent. Soon, the smell of fish and stagnant water overcame her nostrils as the creature shoved her upper torso into its mouth, its slimy tongue covering the side of her face with its mucus-saliva. As it began to swallow, all she could think of was that any fate imaginable would have been better than being eaten alive, and if she could help it, she would tear the fucker apart from the inside and make it regret ever shoving her down its throat.

In the end, it never came to that. One of her kicks managed to land against the creature's throat, causing it to reel back, gag, and throw Veronica against the railing. Soaring through the fresh air, feeling the relief of the absence of the creature's tongue against her flesh, Veronica imagined landing on her feet and giving the monster a sort of payback that would leave its body plastered in ten different parts of the surrounding area. Instead, she found the back of her thighs hitting against the rail and then she fell, plummeted backwards over the side and into the waters below, the cool depths eagerly swallowing her whole.


	39. Part 38

In a feat that would have amazed even Kyle himself if he had the time to think about his actions, he pushed beyond the incredible, idiotic urge to stand still and gawk at the giant monstrosity of dirt-covered, pulsating flesh and began to dash off down the street. He never once imagined that a worm could ever make a noise, but the gurgled screech that followed as he began to run proved a true testament to just how little God cared about Raccoon City. Of course, any effect such a surreal noise could have had on Kyle was lost to his desperate escape through the street of unending obstacles. Making his way around a series of cars that had collided into each other days ago, plastering their inhabitants on the windows in a poetic display of violence, the earth trembled once again, lasting for several quick footsteps until all become still. Glancing over his shoulder, as curiosity seized the better of him, he found that the giant worm had retreated back into the ground.

Turning his attention back to what he probably would have considered a daring escape, Kyle had just enough time to notice the twitching body of a man pinned underneath a car. With no other option, he leapt over the body just as it reached out to grab his leg and yank him to the ground. No sooner did he land on both feet than did the familiar, terrifying tremors begin once again. Kyle managed to get a few more paces down the street, preparing to jump on to the hood of a car in order to avoid blundering into the arms of a walking corpse before the giant worm reemerged from the ground. Vehicles toppled and rolled over as the creature tore through the street as if it were nothing more than a thin sheet of plastic. To make matters much worse, Kyle lost his footing and fell directly into the very zombie he had set out to avoid, which wasted absolutely no time in taking him hostage.

While doing everything possible to keep the undead horror from tearing into his throat, Kyle heard the giant worm return into the earth, probably to prepare for another surprise attack. A hunger-driven moan escaped the rotten, near nonexistent lips of the zombie as its undead muscles fought to break through Kyle's defense. However, if the sight of a mindless, bloodthirsty corpse inches from his body didn't do well enough to make him begin to panic, vibrations began to run through the ground, growing more intense with each passing second until there wasn't a doubt left in Kyle's mind that the worm intended to rise directly underneath his feet.

Cracks started to form in the pavement, the sounds of rock and earth giving way mixing in with the inhuman moans of the horror trying to bite into his flesh. In what could only have been described as a feat of amazing luck and near perfect timing, Kyle managed to force his undead opposition away, diving off to the side of the street as the monstrous worm tore from the ground like a parasite, instantaneously impaling the zombie with one of its mandibles. The rotten corpse soon met its end to the creature, which pulled it into its mouth and grinded the corpse to shreds, spewing blood out like a rain shower from Hell.

Staring wide eyed at the giant, organic blender as it finished its latest meal, Kyle backed himself up against a light post and uttered, "This-this isn't batshit insane… nooooo."

After going through the motions of swallowing the liquefied remains of the zombie, giving Kyle ample time to pick himself up from the ground, the top of the worm turned and peered down at him, despite not having any actual, visible eyes. Even though only seconds of this showdown passed, Kyle's mind led him to imagine an old, western ditty play through the air followed by a tumbleweed rolling between him and the worm. In retrospect, such imaginative thinking was probably all that stood between him and the complete realization that he, most likely, stood no chance of escaping the situation alive.

As if to confirm such a notion, the creature reeled back, preparing to slam its body down at Kyle like a thick, heavy whip. Figuring that he had stared at the beast long enough to have its terrible image forever ingrained in his mind, Kyle began to dash off down the sidewalk. No sooner did he begin to move than the creature's body smashed against the ground. It swept back and forth, knocking over nearby vehicles with its massive bulk before giving up and burrowing into the ground once again. The sound of cars being smacked around like play things proved enough to motivate Kyle's legs to drive harder in order to escape, turning them into little more than machines working beyond their limits. Each new step caused a larger fire to burn within his calves and thighs until he inevitably realized that he could not run forever.

"Stupid… legs…" he gasped between breaths, stumbling as soon as those wretched tremors returned. "I knew I should have gone jogging more often."

As if he were in some twisted obstacle course, Kyle maneuvered his way around three zombies, having no desire to be grabbed and rooted in place again. Upon leaving the undead behind to wonder where their meal had gone, he leapt onto the hood of a car that had crashed backwards into a streetlight, continued his stride on to the roof of a second car. When his feet hit the thin, metallic roofing, his left leg gave in causing him to stumble forward. Of course, as soon as he braced himself to fall off the car and hit the ground, the giant monstrosity that had apparently decided to chase him throughout the entire city, burrowed up from beneath the car, tipping it over and subsequently causing Kyle to fly off the edge.

He felt himself tear through the air in slow motion, watching as the side of a semi came ever closer to colliding with his body. In the last few moments of freefalling, Kyle shut his eyes and attempted to brace himself for the impact. He crashed dead on with the driver's side door of the truck, which managed to seize all of the air from his lungs. When his back hit the ground, he fell into the fit of silent gagging, attempting to both cough out and suck in air to no avail, a feat that made his chest feel as if it were about to implode at any given moment. Blackness swallowed his vision and a deep drumming consumed his ears. For a brief, almost forgiving moment, everything went numb and he knew nothing of the world around him. Consciousness left him and he knew what it would feel like to die.

Because reality hadn't finished toying with him, a horrible, gurgled screech snatched Kyle from the clutches of unconsciousness and brought him back to the decaying, wrecked street where a gigantic, hungry worm was just waiting to swallow him whole. Air flooded his lungs and he began to cough, attempting to stand up only to fall back on the ground in utter defeat. Another one of those rare instances occurred where words failed to come from Kyle's mouth, mostly because he felt that if he opened his mouth, he would end up vomiting. However, if he could have spoken, he would have most likely muttered something along the line of, "Survived hordes of zombies, rabid dogs, giant, steroid abusing assholes… just to get punked out by a god damn worm. Aye, Fate be a cruel mistress."

The creature swung around, preparing for another attempt at crushing Kyle beneath its weight. In what appeared to be a fit of rage, it knocked some of the surrounding vehicles away before pulling back to slam on its prey. At first, Kyle attempted to crawl away, but quickly realized that escape plan wouldn't do him much good. After a van toppled on its side not a yard from him, he let out a pained cry and forced himself off the ground, stumbling into a clumsy sprint towards a nearby alley. As he left the street, the creature crashed down where he had previously laid, the very force of the impact causing him to fall to one knee. Not particularly enjoying the idea of remaining in one place, toiling in the pain that throbbed throughout his entire body, Kyle once again forced himself to his feet and made his way into the alley between two buildings.

Halfway through to the street on the other side, he froze in place, glanced up to the rooftops of the buildings, standing roughly three to five stories from the ground. By this point, the gigantic worm had burrowed back into the earth, without a doubt preparing for another attack.

"You think you're so sweet, don't you?" He forced out a pained laugh before taking a deep breath and stomping on the ground with his right foot. "I got news for you, buddy." Heavy tremors began to rise from beneath his feet. "You're nothing but a giant piece of FISH BAIT!"

As if understanding Kyle's insult and wishing nothing more but revenge on his puny, fragile human body, the worm began to erupt from the earth like vile, organic lava. In an act he felt sure would have fit right in with an action movie, Kyle ducked out of the alley in time to avoid serious injury by the worm's reemergence. After gathering himself, his legs trembling upon bearing his full weight, he watched as the giant creature forced its way between the two buildings, struggling against their architecture until the walls finally began to break. In what was probably a fit of rage and hunger, the creature begin to writhe within the confines of the alley and the walls of the buildings collapsed on top of it, dragging it to the earth under masses of rubble. With one odd, disturbing screech, the worm struggled to break free and eventually fell still.

Even with the temporary deafness imparted from the most recent structural collapse, Kyle found it difficult not to marvel at the bruised, battered and defeated beast. Although its flesh continued to pulsate beneath the collection of rubble and its mandibles, every now and then, twitched as if fighting to regain some semblance to life, the creature lacked its previous, devilish drive to devour what was probably the only living being in a several mile radius. As the ringing in his ears began to die down, returning to the familiar sounds of empty wind and distant moans, Kyle found himself foolishly testing fate by approaching the corpse. Even though he had won, he felt the need to flaunt his victory over his opponent if only to validate how weak and battered he had let his body become in order to escape from it.

Watching as the creature continued to wither away into nothing more than a pile of flesh, Kyle stopped a few feet away from it. Several smaller teeth lined the inner portions of the creatures mouth, making it all the more believable that it had managed to turn a zombie into a blood and flesh smoothie. Taking in deep breaths in order to help his body along the way to rest and recovery, despite the pungent smell of rotten flesh within the air, Kyle locked his fingers behind his neck, stretched out and brought his attention to the giant once more. "Honestly, for killing this thing I should be able to bag any chick that I want." He grinned and turned his attention to an imaginary, overly well-endowed woman. "Hello. My name is Kyle, Slayer of Giant Man-Eating Worms. How may I service you tonight, madam?"

Almost as soon as the thought of whether or not Veronica would ever believe him about his encounter with giant fishing bait, let alone allow him into her pants based solely on his sheer giant worm slaying prowess, a few large pieces of rubble tumbled down to the base of pile. Soon, those few pieces of dislodged rubble led into a small landslide as the creature began to move once more. Kyle had all of three seconds to begin running before it reached out in an attempt to impale him with its mandibles. Like a snake, this unceasing collection of putrid, unholy nightmare shot from beneath its supposed rubble-coffin. It slithered out of the alley in pursuit of Kyle, who wasn't sure whether to be afraid for his life, pissed off that nothing ever actually stayed dead or to laugh because of how hard the forces of fate seemed to be trying to kill him. In the end, he settled for running.

Although he never imagined worms capable of moving with anything close to swiftness and speed, Kyle could practically feel this thing's vile breath on his heels as he ran. The scent this creature gave off, that of warm, decaying flesh and sewage, seemed to conquer the air like an unforgiving dictator, leading to a multitude of unpleasant gagging experiences in the midst of fleeing for his life. To make matters worse, the undead stood around the street, acting as little more than unwelcome obstacles for Kyle to bypass, as if the obstructing frozen-in-time traffic didn't pose enough of a bother. While he had to force his body to climb over or dash around the vehicles, he heard his pursuer merely swiping the heavy machines off to the side and out of the way.

"This is ridiculous…" Kyle uttered to himself right before coughing in a small fit to regulate airflow in his lungs. He shook his head and stumbled when his legs gave out. Collapsing to the ground, the pain throbbing within his legs made its way up his spine where it seemed to partake in a game of pinball inside his skull. All he knew at that point, between the series of intense, painful ringing and vibrating that filled his head was that he needed to move or nothing would matter ever again.

Before the creature could seize Kyle's weakened body in its unnatural mandibles and force him down its razorblade-filled throat, he managed to crawl his way underneath a nearby van. It took a moment for him to manage to reposition himself, but when he did, all he saw from underneath the van was the giant worm stopped at the side of the vehicle. It apparently waited for Kyle to crawl out from underneath and face his fate, but when no such instance occurred, the creature must have became impatient. Rearing back like a serpent ready to strike, the worm lifted the front half of its body, preparing to crush the vehicle.

It never crossed Kyle's mind that he could have merely continued to lie underneath the van and accept his fate. His body had been pushed further than it ever should have and the thought of moving alone served to fill his nerves with greater pain and unease. However, he had never been one to give up and he still had business to finish, a promise to keep. Somehow, he felt sure that if he never returned Veronica her knife that even death wouldn't save him from her unyielding scorn. Besides, despite how strongly she felt about parting with him, somehow he knew that his death would lead to hers, that in a way she needed him to such an extreme caliber. Regardless, he did not intend to let either her or himself down by dying simply because he happened to stumble across a gigantic worm with a taste for human flesh.

Almost as soon as Kyle could wrap his mind around the creature's intended action, he made his way out from the opposite side of the vehicle, standing to his feet only to be knocked down when the giant worm smashed the van. He struggled to his feet once more, facing down the worm's deathtrap of a mouth. As it moved forward to take hold of him, he dashed off to the side of the street, stumbling at the curb. With a grunt, knowing that he would really pay for how hard he had been pushing his body, Kyle continued into another alley, running halfway down to a medium sized dumpster. Turning around to face the end of the alley that the worm had stopped at, apparently trying to figure a way to squeeze itself between the buildings in order to reach Kyle, he began to wave his arms and yell at the creature.

"Giving up so easily!? Come on! I'm right here, you fat fucker! Maybe if you stopped eating SHIT you'd be able to fit in here!" He would have said more, taking some great delight in verbally abusing a creature that, most likely, couldn't hear him, except that a thud from the nearby dumpster cut him off. Turning around, he found himself staring at the freshly risen body of a young man, its eyes glossed over with a pale, yellow film and its mouth opened, eagerly awaiting blood. "Oh, come on! Give me a break!"

Backing away to give himself some distance from the mobile corpse, a second startling sound made his heart race. Glancing over his shoulder, Kyle found the giant worm attempting to force itself into the alley, the structures on both sides starting to give way as it pushed. It was then that he thought, "Of course there has to be a zombie standing directly in my way to escape. It's like they rest in narrow places like this on purpose."

Faced with certain death looming behind him as the relentless worm continued to struggle into the alley and an undead obstacle in front of him, Kyle found himself taking hold of Veronica's knife as if he were anywhere close to as masterful as she had proved to be with the weapon. Figuring it would be best to try to jam the weapon through the monster's head, since the closeness of the adjacent buildings prevented decent maneuvering, Kyle attempted, and promptly failed at, sticking Veronica's knife into the zombie's forehead. One wretched, cold hand grabbed onto his wrist, the other took hold of his shoulder and the corpse prepared itself to take a chunk out of his neck. While he struggled to pry himself free, the worm continued to push its way into the alley, sending various chunks of wall down to the ground in the process.

In one last, desperate attempt to preserve his life, Kyle lodged his foot against the zombie's abdomen and kicked it away, snapping one of its arms in the process. The creature fell to the ground with a lifeless thud, allowing Kyle to dash to the other end of the alley and watch as the worm quite literally dug its own grave. Less than halfway through the alley, the buildings on both sides gave way and, once again, collapsed on top of the beast. It twitched for a while longer and as much as Kyle wanted to stick around and make sure that it never moved again, maybe to take some revenge-stabs with Veronica's knife, he turned away.

Finding a street sign to assess his location, Kyle sighed and slipped Veronica's knife back into its sheath. To his left, a street led back down towards the park. Ahead of him had amassed a large gathering of undead, held back only by an accidental barricade of cars. In escaping the giant worm, he had gone several blocks out of his way and as much as he wanted to return to the park and continue trying to make progress around it so that he could possibly reunite with Veronica, Kyle knew that he needed to rest. Every forced step he took sent shockwaves of pain up his legs and for a while, he found himself wondering when the last time had been that he had taken a shower.

Oddly enough, every time he stopped walking to take a quick break on his mission to find some sort of safe haven to rest in, he thought he could feel the earth once again vibrating underneath his feet. Although nothing ever came from these sensations, it continued to keep his heart pounding. "I'm really starting to hate this place."


	40. Part 39

The hospital's walls had swallowed him whole. Even as he moved and thought, the overbearing air laden with despair and decay weighed heavy on his shoulders, threatening to bring him to his knees. Then, the city would finish what it had started. It would drown him beneath the pained cries of the dead and damned, saturating his lungs with absolute hopelessness. Then his chest would burst and he would join every other lost soul, destined forever to wander the streets of Hell. The memories that forever plagued his mind, testaments of war and displays of scientific madness shown by Umbrella, all paled in comparison to the sights that consumed Damien's eyes, the sounds the gnawed at his ears and the sick, twisted emotions that poisoned his heart.

The damage had been done and he blamed Billy for everything. The man lacked human emotion and sympathy, instead clutching to some sort of cold, wicked, machine-like functioning that only existed in order to shed blood. Not even the worst of demons that lurked Raccoon City's streets matched what Damien saw in Billy. Unlike those creatures, Billy understood his actions and rationalized his killings to the point where he saw bloodshed as not only the right course of action, but enjoyable. The city was his domain, his home and he ruled over it like a king, accepting his place on a throne made of death and agony all to show his worthiness as a god. Damien both hated and feared him with every last fiber of his being.

"Watch your footing," Billy stated in much the same tone expected from someone striking up small talk. "I won't say it again."

Those words seeped into Damien's consciousness like bars of solid steel falling from the sky. A deep exhale parted his lips as his vision focused on the darkened outline of a corpse laying not three feet from his now still feet. The hospital's lobby was ridden with re-deceased bodies of the undead, but the demon at his feet was different. It was different because Billy had said so and who better to know the minds and states of monsters than the lord of death and carnage himself? One more step and the zombie would break its act of playing dead and attempt to grab Damien's foot, but oddly enough, this thought didn't even faze him. As Billy walked off into the darkened hallways, threatening to disappear from sight, all Damien could think was that he'd be lucky to have something tear him away from Billy's domineering insanity.

"If… If I kill you…" Damien uttered to the still zombie, not expecting any sort of response. "Does that make me just as bad as him? Do you have the right have your head blown to bits because of a viral fuck up on Umbrella's part? Should I even care...?" How many men had he seen die at his side in combat? How many nightmares did he watch Umbrella toy with as if they were not playing God with some of the deadliest weapons mankind could create? "What happens when a man stops caring about killing!"

His last words barely had enough time to finish echoing before he pulled the trigger and ended the zombie's wretched existence.

"Is death not an extension of life? Never is one without the other." He heard Billy's voice despite the man having had walked off several moments earlier. For a few seconds, Damien was left wondering if his mind had finally started to wither away underneath Billy's command. Even as he began to move, he could have sworn he heard Billy muttering, "Deep into that darkness peering… Long he stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."

With a voice he had apparently forgotten he had, Damien found himself calling as he followed in Billy's footsteps, "There are no dreams here! Only nightmares! Tell me why! WHY!"

Like an uncaring, bothered father, Billy replied from the base of a flight of stairs, "No need to yell and whine. It makes you look childish."

"Just tell me why!" Damien ran up to his superior who busied himself by peering up the stairs. "Why did you-"

"Because," Billy cut him off, a sense of sick pride lurking behind his calm voice. "I can. I have the right to spill blood and kill what and whom I wish. I am death incarnate, blessed with the touch of His scythe to rule over the living as I please."

"You're sick… You… You don't deserve to live!"

"I know. It's a good thing I don't then, isn't it?"

"I'll…" Damien tripped over his words, his heart skipping a beat. "I'll kill you…"

"Go ahead. You and I both know that you won't." Billy glanced over his shoulder, watching without the slightest bit of concern as Damien leveled his shotgun at his skull. "Pull the trigger and watch how quickly this city eats you alive without me around to hold your hand."

Damien's rate of breathing picked up, his heart pounding behind his chest as if playing an intense drum solo. His finger braced the trigger to his shotgun and he willed himself to fire. Shutting his eyes, he tried to force his finger to close and end the unholy dominion of Billy, waiting for the blessed sound of a gunshot to declare his freedom.

Billy began to walk up the stairs, chuckling to himself. "Accept your fate as a pawn, Damien. This is not your story."

Even as Billy's footsteps fell silent, Damien continued to stand at the base of the stairs, aiming his shotgun ahead of himself at the now absentness of Billy. Slowly, utterly defeated, he lowered his gun and bowed his head, shaking it side to side with the inability to accept his inaction. Billy deserved death, so why couldn't Damien pull the trigger? Why couldn't he free himself once and for all and rid the world of a creature that should have never been born?

"Patricia," he said aloud, no longer caring if the tainted walls carried his voice to Billy's ears. "I need… an extraction." Every step he took up the stairs in weak pursuit of Billy felt as if his legs weighed a hundred pounds each. The shadows hiding in the corners gawked at him as he walked by, welcoming him to their sweet, infernal embrace.

"Aw, what's the matter shug?" It sounded as if she sucked on her lip following her all too playful question. She had absolutely no idea and Damien found himself pitying her for such ignorance. "Miss me already? I think the boss men would be mighty pissed if I flew in just for a conjugal visit."

"Frederick's dead…" He continued to ascend the stairs, knowing only that his destination was upwards. Where Billy had gone, he had not the faintest clue, but he felt sure that such a wicked presence could materialize wherever and whenever from the sheer amount of suffering still laden in the air.

Another light, playful lip-smack followed by a short series of lighthearted giggles. "Poor rookie. I had my eyes on both you and him, you know. Want to share the gory details or should I leave it for my imagination?"

"Please, Patricia…" Damien shook his head in silent disbelief to how little she understood and cared about the situation. "I need you to pick me up. This mission… this mission is done. I can't go on with it anymore. Something's not right with Billy and I think he might kill me soon."

"Ooohhhh…" She laughed again. "It turns me on when strong, military-type men show me their pussy side. Go on honey, tell Mommy all about the big, scary man. I promise I'll try to make it all better."

"He's…" Damien slipped on some sort of liquid left on a stair and stumbled against the railing. His rate of breathing picked up, more so from his desperate struggle to get Patricia to understand that he needed to leave the city than from his near fatal accident of falling down a flight of stairs. "He's no man. No… He's not human."

Again, she laughed, her ignorance mocking him with each new fragmented noise she created. "Then what is he, shug? Is he a vampire? Oh! Maybe he's a robot!"

"You're not listening to me!" Damien called out, stepping from the stairs to a hallway that went on only a few feet in front of him before diminishing into darkness. "Billy's insane! He's a monster! You don't understand… He-he kill-"

The mass of black that covered most of the hall before him began to move, cutting his frantic speech off mid-sentence. After a pause in the conversation, Patricia began to speak again, but her words were utterly lost to Damien. Death stood before his eyes, shrouded in a robe of pure, ungodly darkness. The mass of nightmare moved towards him, its arms dangling at its side like limber, black tentacles. For a moment, Damien thought he saw the creature's eyes, peering through absolute nothingness to examine and claim his soul.

"No… NO! NOT NOW! NOT HERE!" Damien screamed, his cracking voice filling the empty halls of the hospital with ease, giving any and all of the damned remaining within the building a musical score of absolute horror for their undead senses to feast upon. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO TAKE ME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND! I REFUSE TO BE TRAPPED HERE FOREVER!"

"Hun, calm down," Patricia spoke from the opposite end of their communication system, but her voice did little to break through the intense sound of Damien's rapidly beating heart lodged firmly within his throat. "What's going on? Where are you?"

"BACK!" He unloaded a full clip of shotgun shells into the animate mass of shadow, doing nothing to halt the creature's advancement. How could he kill something that was neither living nor dead? How could he expect to kill the very bringer of death? "STAY BACK! BACK!"

His feet had been routed in place by sheer terror, but the thought of fleeing never crossed his fragile mind. All he could do was watch the unholy creature make its way towards him, giving in to his irrational desire to confront and defy death than to give in to absolute horror and flee. Throwing his shotgun at the creature, he quickly swung the rifle around from his back and began to fire. Like the shotgun, each bullet simply fell into the creature's abysmal, dark body and disappeared from existence.

Eventually, the gunfire ceased and Damien fell to his knees, trembling like a frightened child.

"Damien! Please, speak to me! Come in! Hello?"

"Oh God… Oh… oh God…" He shook his head, watching Death stop in place only a yard from where he knelt. "I'm sorry. So… so sorry... Please, please forgive me for not doing anything… please." His words gave way to hollow, desperate breaths as he found those dark, wicked eyes of the deity once more. "This… this is… Hell."

The creature's arm lifted in the air, ready to cast judgment on Damien and deliver him to his eternal fate. The last sensation he knew was that of a cold, thick embrace around his neck, slowly cutting off his access to air. Then, a snap and he knew no more.

"Damien…?" Patricia's faint voice called out from the headset still attached to Damien's body. "Hello? Come in…"

The mass standing before Damien's body dissolved, letting a mostly skinless, decomposed body collapse to the ground in its wake. The entity dropped its fragile vessel in order to claim a fresh body to manifest around. The creatures that had amassed around a corpse in order to take humanoid shape slithered along the floor to claim Damien's body as their new prize. Of course, the congregation of leeches never had so much as the chance to begin to feast upon his still warm blood, let alone organize themselves to take control of his body. A sharp crack, a bottle smashing apart, gave way to a mini explosion that lit all of the separated leeches on fire, to burn away to little more than charred crisps.

Billy walked towards the fire, staring down at Damien's now burning corpse. "Rest, fool. Eternity is at your doorstep and while you live in the false bliss that comes after life, know that I will rule this domain as is my nature. Hell is my home, Damien, and like a true pawn, you have served your purpose. It would have been next to impossible to kill the humanoid leech if you hadn't sacrificed yourself and enticed the leeches away from their old corpse." He turned to walk down the hallway, to approach the stairwell at the opposite end of the building. The sprinkler system went off, which would have surprised him if he hadn't already known it would happen. "Your death… It tastes delicious."

Drenched in the cool water showered down by the overhead sprinklers, Billy returned to the second floor, running his fingertips down the wall of the hallway as he walked. Halfway down, he caught scent of her and followed that scent into a small, abnormally tidy patient room. He shut the door behind him, staring over at the bed with an intense, burning desire rising in his throat. His hands opened and closed until he finally cracked his knuckles and chuckled. "This is where you hid, where you FLED, huh, Prospero?"

As if enjoying every single inhale he took within that room, Billy slowly made his way to the bed, pausing for a few seconds after each step. "Were you afraid? No… Yes… You were angry and distraught. You wanted to cry! You wanted bloodshed! How is fear when it's mixed with rage? What does it feel like to want to kill and preserve life at the same time?"

Caught up in the moment, nothing more than raging insanity burning within his eyes, Billy shot towards the bed and snatched the sheet in one tight fist. "I smell you here… I see you." He began to laugh, falling to his knees beside the bed as if he were about to make a prayer to some long ago forsaken god. "You run and hide when all you want is blood. My, my, what a little whore. How I miss you."

He began to run his free hand along the side of the bed, shutting his eyes as he clutched the sheet close to his chest. At first, his breathing picked up pace but eventually fell so still that any onlooker would have imagined him not breathing at all. After minutes of stillness, his eyes shot open and he threw his head back, breaking into a fit of cackling laughter.

"And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side of my darling… my darling… my life and my bride, in the sepulcher there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea. Don't you see? You are mine, Lenore, to claim as I wish, to paint you flesh, MY flesh, in your blood, MY blood. I will seize you like a disease and claim your life for me." Swaying side to side, he lowered his head and continued to laugh. "Run all you wish, Prospero."


	41. Part 40

All she knew was the embrace of the cold liquid around her skin. Familiarity held within the water's soft motions, she felt at peace. Retained by her liquid cell, Veronica found neither the faintest of noises nor the slightest of sights. She merely floated, remembering a life long ago where insanity's talons had yet to tear into her mind. For a time, she dwelled within her own mental sanctuary and forgot all about Raccoon City.

Slowly, she found her mind focusing on the seldom tick-tocks of a clock, ringing throughout her skull in an even rhythm despite the world of silence that had seized her ears. Then, that clock turned to heartbeats and even though she couldn't feel her heart pounding away within her chest, she could hear it and sense the weak impact it was making on the still world around her. Her heart represented disruption to a blissful, peaceful stagnancy and she wanted to scream for it to cease so that it would no longer threaten to shatter her sanctuary. In the end, only the fear of facing the nightmares she knew continued to lurk within reality drove her to desperately plea to remain within her peaceful bubble of safe denial. At the time, she remembered not the exact details to Raccoon City and its horrors, but only that something terrible and cruel waited for her return in order to torture her more, if only for its twisted amusement and curiosity. Her emotions and humanity had become little more than playthings for the forces watching over her.

"Comfortable?"

She wanted to inquire into whom that relaxed, male voice belonged to but Veronica knew well enough that if she opened her mouth, she would drown.

"A simple nod will do," the man offered, as if reading Veronica's very train of thought. "You're doing well."

It crossed her mind that she had no clue as to her location. It felt as if she had been locked within a flooded coffin, the man standing outside more so observing her in order to gauge how her body handled a slow, miserable death. Why did his voice sound so familiar and yet, at the same time, fill her with an uncanny sense of dread?

"Your heart is beginning to slow. Do you feel lightheaded? Can you still hear me?"

Veronica struggled, but managed to bob her head slightly, her muscles having turn to numb rubber. She wanted to break free of her dark, liquid restraints and rid herself of the paralyzing peace that overwhelmed her body, but so strongly she feared what stood beyond the threshold of her liquid prison. She feared that she would fall to pieces without the cool water there to hold her together.

"Good." The voice fell into quiet mumbles for a few seconds before returning its attention to Veronica. "You're doing better-"

A second, far too distant voice cut him off. Veronica could only vaguely make out the other's words, "We… problem… breaking out…"

"Quick, someone grab…"

The first voice drifted off and became mute as its source left Veronica's side. Bleak loneliness became her new companion, swallowing whole the maddening void left by her waning consciousness. Should she have struggled to free herself from her confines and face her observers? It hardly seemed to matter anymore. Darkness consumed her and then there was nothing.

"It's time to wake up. There's so much yet to be done today."

Before consciousness flooded back to Veronica, bringing with it all the terrible memories of Raccoon City, she saw an image of the bed, on which she and Kyle spent the night together, flash before her eyes. A body was lying on that bed, his hands folded atop his chest as if he were a corpse lying within his coffin, waiting for his burial. Then, before she could so much as inquire into the nature of such a being, the image drifted away, leaving her alone with one solitary, intense desire. She wanted to see Kyle.

Her eyes flying open, Veronica began to scream only to have water gush into her mouth. In but a matter of seconds, she began to gag on the putrid, cool liquid, desperately attempting to keep herself from sucking in any more of the water. Orientating herself proved a fruitless endeavor, as only boundless sheets of darkness spread out in front of her eyes. Had she drifted to the bottom of a pool of water or was she hopelessly lost within a vast ocean of black paint?

Luckily for her, she didn't have to face the answer to those questions and ultimately submit herself to death when her lungs would burst and flood with water. Before she knew it, her weightless floating turned into a rapid escape as something seized her leg and tore her through the water. In an instant, Veronica flew through the surface, felt the air for all of a second before splashing down into the water once more. This repeated twice more until dizziness ruled over her head. The few quick breaths she managed to suck in while being whipped through the air did little to appease her insatiable lungs, leaving her weak and fragile even before she was carelessly thrown onto the shore. It took several moments for Veronica to understand that her wet skin now braced dirt and grass instead of cold water and that she could, finally, begin to breathe once again.

Just as she began to relax and calm down as air returned to her depraved body, something slimy took hold of her leg and dragged her along the ground. Too weakened to do much of anything, Veronica let out a few strained groans before being lifted into the air, dangling upside down in front of one of the amphibian-like creatures she had confronted earlier. It's large, black eyes stared at her, almost as if the creature decided to examine her in search of some semblance of fear before shoving her down its throat. While she wanted to struggle, Veronica found herself instead coughing as the blood began to rush to her head, making her dizziness all the worse. After what was probably only a few seconds, though felt more like countless torturous, sickening minutes, the monster took hold of her by the waist and opened its gigantic, wide jaw.

As soon as her limp fingertips grazed this creature's slime-covered tongue, Veronica's body began to convulse until, in a spasmodic twitch, her wrist blade launched from its mechanical sheath and slide into the beast. Soon, its wretched screams sank through her ears and into her consciousness where it festered, driving her mad with the promise of spilling new blood and causing new pain. She opened her eyes, now staring up at this creature, which had dropped her in response to its wound. Blood gushed from its mouth like a weak waterfall, running down the length of its body in a beautiful, glimmering cascade of pure, liquid agony.

"Marvelous, isn't it?" Male or female, familiar or strange, the details behind the voice she heard mattered so little.

Grinding her fingernails into the dirt as she watched the amphibian-like creature attempt to push beyond the pain caused by the gash she had left in its tongue, Veronica knew only sick desire. Like a junkie addicted to slaughter, she craved this creature's death. Withdrawal had already set in and drove her mind to a land of delusions and distraught. Her body trembled with the thoughts of feeling fresh blood against her flesh and the scent of putrid, hellish fluids filling her lungs. If she had been stuck alone with such a craving, she may have opted to cut her own flesh in order to fulfill her twisted desire. Perhaps if Kyle had been close by, his presence could have nullified how badly she wanted to kill, but like a fool, she left his side and damned herself to her disease.

Leaving any semblance to the human named Veronica to sit in a daze upon the grass, her body sprung up and dashed at the injured creature, her bladed arm extended out to the side, ready to cast judgment on the demon. While the giant amphibian prepared itself to launch a counterattack, blood still trickling from between its plump, blue lips, a quick series of gunshots caused it to stumble backwards. Without so much as a second for the creature to recover, she pounced on the beast, jamming her blade into the top of its skull. It gave some struggle despite having a sharp piece of metal lodged into its brain, but eventually succumbed to the limitations of mortality and collapsed to the ground. Veronica didn't even give the creature the pleasure of rejoicing in its last few moments in the world, shooting it in the throat five times before retrieving her blade. All fell still afterwards, the only motion lying within the small streams of blood leaking into the grass.

"All I see are monsters… Everywhere, all around me… So much blood." said the woman sitting back on the ground, combing the nearby grass with her fingers. "I'm not safe here, am I?"

The monster covered in the blood of the giant amphibian stood to her feet and turned around. For a moment, Veronica thought that she had spotted her, that she would be the next to have her throat gashed, but a second lake monster leaped into the picture, perhaps to avenge its fallen comrade or to claim the blood covered monster as its latest meal. The reason, however, quickly ceased to matter as several gunshots rang through the air. Then, it began to rain blood.

"She's doing well, wouldn't you say?" asked a man dressed in white garb that stood next to Veronica.

Staring in awe as the savage woman tore into the amphibian-like creature with such swiftness and agility, Veronica could only nod her head and mutter, "Yes… But who is she?"

"One of the best," he replied followed by a short laugh. "Such skill… There's so much promise."

"But who is she?" A painter with a blade for a brush, blood for paint and bodies for canvases?

"She was made for this."

"But who is she?" The large amphibian fell to the ground, but the blood splattered woman didn't stop. She never stopped.

"Are you scared?" The man crouched down and turned his head to Veronica. He had no face.

Lowering her gaze, unable to look at this faceless being dressed in white, she replied, "Terrified… Don't tell anyone, okay?"

He laughed. "Your secret is safe with me. We'll look after you, don't worry."

"Can…" She sighed, looking up at the insane woman straddling a deceased monster, hacking into it with her blade as if there was gold buried within its chest. "Can you… protect me from her?"

The man stood up then and after a brief pause, replied, "I'm sorry, dear." He took a step away, stopped and turned around. "Here, why don't you rest for a while. There's still so much to do and there are only two of you left."

Her eyes beginning to feel like lead weights, Veronica uttered, "What happened to the others?"

"They died, my dear. But you never met them, remember? It's been so long ago now, it hardly matters. If things go well enough, we'll introduce you to him. It could prove a pleasant experience for everyone."

"Oh…" Her head fell forward and she lost consciousness for a moment, bolting upright in order to ask one last thing. "Is… is he a monster too?"

Silence.

"Please," she willed herself to ask, but found that speech failed her. Why had she become so drowsy while the blood covered monstrosity of a woman never tired of hacking away at the bloodied, dismembered corpse of a long deceased beast? "Tell me…"

"Oh, mournful and terrible engine of Horror and of Crime, of Agony and of Death."

Sleep slew her frail mind, shattering it to bits and pieces that blew away with the wind. But the slaughter never ceased.

Dozens of bodies surrounded her, scattered around the street like an urban cemetery. The cold, hard pavement and open, stagnant air melded together to create their coffins and the useless, stationary cars acted as their wordless tombstones. Nameless beings ended twice over, once to the whims of a disease, the other to the blade and guns of a blood-shedding monster. Veronica wanted to scream and give in to her human side, which wanted only to find repulsion in her current setting, but she couldn't. Perhaps she tried and nothing happened. In the end, every time she attempted to move her mind on to other things, she found her thoughts returning to the bodies at her feet and the blood on her clothes and skin.

"M-Miss…" someone uttered, his pitiful, weak voice nearly masked by the raging sounds of chaos that ran rampant through Veronica's mind.

Like a trained dog, Veronica launched her blade from her wrist and spun around to face the source of the voice, finding only a young boy, not even old enough to drive, stumbling out from one of the nearby cars. She found herself watching him, noting his dirty skin, his tattered clothes and his messy, brown hair. Shock and confusion stayed her muscles, for she did not know whether she should have dashed towards him and taken him out with one swift strike or respond to his words. The blood-addicted demon living inside her saw this young boy as nothing more than another body to add to the pile, but try as it might, it simply couldn't break through her inability to accept taking his life.

"Thank you." He forced an uneasy smile, without a doubt put off by how much blood covered her body. "You saved me."

Veronica's eyes went wide, finding it impossible to comprehend those last three words. "I… I what?" Deep breaths soon began to flow into and out of her chest. She remembered so very little except the way it sounded when her blade tore through rotten, fragile bone.

The young boy took a few uncomfortable steps towards her, casting his gaze off to the side as he began to speak again. "I escaped from these two guys and found myself in the middle of a group of zombies… I locked myself in that car." He paused, sighed and took another step towards her. "My names Mark. I-I've been using a room in that hotel," he pointed to some building behind Veronica, but she couldn't bring herself to remove him from her sight to turn around and look, "to store supplies and stuff… Do you, um… want something to eat or…?"

She couldn't believe any of this, that she had run into another survivor and had actually managed to save his life. How did he manage to survive so long on his own? Why was he so foolish in trusting her so easily? She hated this person for tempting her with some promise of hope when she knew all too well how cruel the entire city had become. "I'm… leaving."

"It's getting late!" the boy pleaded, probably plagued by loneliness and fear. Did that make him any different than anyone else trapped within the city? "Please, I haven't met anyone nice since I've been left alone. You can take me with you tomorrow, we'll escape together! Just don't leave me alone again."

"You shouldn't trust me like this…"

"But… but you saved me and-"

Veronica sighed, pulling her wrist blade back to its sheath. Perhaps even before either of them started speaking, she knew that she wouldn't leave him. She had already made that mistake with Kyle and had lived to regret it. If only he was at her side to make everything feel a little better. Veronica still wasn't sure if she would have killed Kyle in an uncontrollable fit of bloodlust, but she hadn't slain Mark. In fact, she had rescued him from near certain death. Didn't that count for something?

At the end of her internal debate, she found nothing but confusion and concern lingering in her mind. She wanted to hate herself for even thinking about leaving him behind like she had Kyle, but try as she might, Veronica couldn't remove the feeling that she'd accidently hurt him if they stuck together. Perhaps it was only because of one simple reason that she decided to follow him to the apartment and stay with him for the night. In Mark's eyes, she saw the same thing she had seen in Kyle's: hope and security. Their eyes were the same color. "Veronica… My name's Veronica."


	42. Part 41

**OCTOBER 1st**  
_SCHIZOPHRENIA_

The sun grazed Veronica's cheek through a cracked window in the once luxurious bedroom of a rather prominent hotel. The glass seemingly held together only out of fear of falling to the ground outside of the hotel to become one with the rest of the destroyed clutter of what used to be a city. Try as she might, Veronica couldn't so much as remember if she ever fell asleep that night. It seemed like only moments ago she had helped Mark barricade the door to the room and then sought refuge on the floor, far away from the door. They had talked, or at least Veronica thought they had, but eventually the exhausted boy passed out. Following that, Veronica remembered darkness and silence until she finally watched the sun slowly creep around the window and push aside the night that had invaded the hotel room. She enjoyed how warm it felt but hated it because she knew all too well that such warmth was only a lie.

"Are you awake?" she thought she uttered, though shortly thereafter realized that the question never so much as left her mind.

With a short groan, Veronica stood to her feet and casted a second glance to Mark, who continued to sleep peacefully on the carpeted floor. He had mentioned that he had been separated from his parents not too long after the incident began. All too quickly, memories of Kathy returned while Veronica had thought that she had managed to forget about that tragedy of a girl. Why was it that even then, when Veronica felt so strongly that in remembering Kathy she should have felt remorse, that in actuality she still managed to retain some of that spiteful hatred she previously felt for the young girl? She had lost her life and all Veronica could manage to think about was how foolish and annoying Kathy had been and how much she had found enjoyment in seeing her turn against Kyle so many countless days ago.

Forcing her eyes shut, Veronica's hands went across her chest and clutched onto her shoulders in an attempt to push all of those thoughts away. Kathy died and as much as she wanted to force herself to feel regret for the lost life of the young girl, she knew all too well that she couldn't and lingering on the topic only served to remind her of how utterly inhuman she had become.

Opening her eyes, Veronica found a human-like figure standing over Mark. Try as she might, she could only watch on with terrified, wide eyes as the darkened figure lifted a knife above its head, ready to bring untimely and cruel death down upon the young, undeserving boy. The figure froze, its head twisting like a demon to look at Veronica. Once its black eyes met hers, it began to laugh before turning back to Mark. As its blade tore through the air, the boy's chest its target, Veronica shut her eyes and opened her mouth to scream. No sound filled the air. Black senselessness became her world and the figure departed.

Air shot into her lungs like water breaking through the hulls of a submarine. She began to gag silently, her eyes shooting open only to be greeted by the ceiling staring back at her. As if she was creating a snow angel within the carpet, her arms and legs began to brush against the floor until her hands tightened, taking the carpet into her grip. As her breathing rate returned to normal, Veronica let her head fall to the side so that she could look at Mark, who continued to sleep in the corner of the room, beneath one of the windows letting in sparse rays of morning light. It took a few moments for her to recover from her latest encounter with insanity and sit up, still half expecting the dark figure to return.

Discord ruled the hotel room with a clutter of survival items serving as its pawns. While the larger furniture had been shoved against the door in order to provide some semblance to security, even though Veronica felt sure that there were a multitude of beings within the city capable of scaling walls and breaking windows, several boxes and cans of food had been piled along the wall. From what she remembered of the night before, the bathroom boasted its share of medical supplies, ranging from medicine to bandages. More so, several bundles of cash littered the floor along with some valuable belongings, such as jewelry and wallets. If anything, beyond his uncanny ability to conquer fear and weave his way through the undead that lurked within the city, Mark certainly had his priorities straight.

"I'd never go too far from here," Veronica seemed to recall him saying before falling asleep, unless her mind was playing tricks on her again. "At first, it was hard avoiding the monsters but I couldn't just sit around and wait, you know? I watched them in the street from this window for the longest time before convincing myself to go outside. They're not so hard to outmaneuver if you know what you're doing."

"You've just been gathering things? Didn't you ever think of escaping?" Did she actually question him? She couldn't imagine herself caring that much.

Mark, sitting back against the very wall that he currently slept in front of, replied, "It was hard enough getting out of this building… I wasn't sure how far I'd make it alone."

"How long have you been alone?"

"Since the outbreak began." Such a notion seemed so distant and familiar to Veronica, though she began to think that she never actually stopped being alone. "I lost my parents on the way back to this hotel. The zombies eventually broke into the lobby downstairs and that's when I ran up to our room. I watched out the window at everything going on outside until I fell asleep late that night." He had seemed like he wanted to be sad. Had he become as emotionally disconnected with humanity as herself? Was fear all that he knew until even that started to become numb? "What about you?"

The question caught her off guard, or maybe it didn't. Honestly, she didn't really know any more. "What do you mean?"

Mark had lain down by that point, obviously giving into the fatigue that plagued his body. "What's your story?"

Silence took hold of her lips and tongue, a typhoon of confusion and concern pillaging her mind for the longest time after his question turned into an echo and then a memory. "I… don't have a story."

Luckily, him falling asleep saved her from any further inquiries and she didn't have to relive the miseries of her past few days again. With any luck, she thought, she would never have to think back to those days again. Yet, somehow, Veronica knew that Lady Luck hated her far too much to allow such a thing.

"Hey, Ronnie. You awake yet?"

"K-Kyle…?" Veronica mumbled feeling the support of a wall against her back and rigidness in her neck. "Kyle… is that you?"

"Who's Kyle?"

When she opened her eyes, Veronica found Mark kneeling in front of her, staring at her as if he had been watching her sleep all night. "Oh…" she found herself muttering as soon as it dawned on her that Kyle was nowhere near as close as she had allowed herself to believe.

Mark reached out and shook her shoulder. "Hey, who's Kyle?"

Shaking her head in an attempt to throw off the remnants of sleep left within her eyelids, Veronica replied, "Don't call me Ronnie."

"Why not?"

"Because I hate that name…" Brushing away Mark's hand, Veronica once again got to her feet. After a brief stretching session, she directed her attention to the young boy. "We should get going if we want to get out of her before night. Do you have anything to carry supplies in?"

Obviously somewhat hurt in Veronica unwillingness to answer his questions, Mark nodded. "Yea, I have the luggage cases my parents and I brought with us here."

Veronica shook her head. "Too heavy. Do you have any backpacks?"

"Just a duffle bag…"

"Think you can manage to carry some things in there without being weighed down too much?" Truth be told, she never had much of an intention to take along too many supplies, but she couldn't very well leave all of the rations that Mark had collected behind. After getting a nod in response to her question, she added, "Don't put too much in there, just some food and bandages." After Mark headed off to gather the materials, Veronica could only think to herself that any medical supplies, most likely, wouldn't serve much of a purpose considering how lethal most of the creatures in the city seemed to be.

"Can I bring some of the money too?" Mark shouted from the bathroom. "At least we'd have something to show for all of this if we made it out."

With a sigh, Veronica merely shook her head and began to tear apart the makeshift barricade in front of the door.

The silence, apparently dictating a firm, "No," to Mark caused him to call out, "Please? It wasn't easy collecting it all, you know. Pretty please, Ronnie?"

Knowing full well that he only used "Ronnie," in order to agitate her into agreeing, Veronica groaned and shoved the large, king sized mattress to the side, where it fell to the floor with a hollow flop. "Whatever. I'm not the one carrying the bag. Do what you want, just don't lag behind too much." She stopped herself before she could add a follow up threat, only because she knew that it was all too possible that she'd actually go through with it. "Or else I'll leave you behind."

"This sucks," Kyle thought to himself, lying within absolute darkness. "I can hear those jerks outside the van. Don't they know that I'm a real pissy person without my beauty sleep?"

The only thing penetrating his temporary shelter was the sound of undead walking around the street, oblivious to his presence within the van. Grant it, the vehicle did smell somewhat of decay since he had stripped the broken-necked body of a middle-aged man from the driver seat the night before. The smell took some getting used to, but Kyle found dealing with such aroma far better than staying on the streets any longer in search of a better place to crash. All in all, the back portion of the van proved to be a great temporary shelter from the hazards outside, acting more as an amazingly small bedroom than the back of a vehicle. It even came with its own worn mattress and all, leading Kyle to question, and subsequently force himself never to think about again, just what the deceased owner of the van used to do within his vehicle.

"You'd think a bunch of corpses would lack the ability to make aggravating moaning noises, but noooo, we have to be able to keep Kyle awake all night somehow, don't we?"

He let out a brief sigh and forced his eyes closed once more in an attempt to grab more sleep before moving on. Of course, the undead never stopped their unholy choir of hollow moans and eventually he gave up on sleep. It also didn't help that every time he closed his eyes and began to drift away, his thoughts brought him to Veronica. Even during the brief periods throughout the night that he did manage to fall asleep, thoughts and images of Veronica plagued his dreams, often causing him to jolt awake in a cold, worried sweat. Shaking his head in defeat, having grown far too tired of missing Veronica, Kyle sat up. Trying to be careful not to make too much noise, he rubbed his eyes then turned around to face the thick curtain that separated the rear of the vehicle from the front. Parting the curtain, an explosion of sunlight took over the inside of the van, nearly blinding Kyle for a few moments.

"Stupid sun." he grumbled, making his way to the front seats. "Stupid zombies."

As he had been reminded nearly all night, a couple zombies had opted to stick around the van, both of them now standing directly in front of it. Sliding over to the driver's seat, Kyle took hold of the seat belt and secured himself in place. Shortly thereafter, he turned the key to the ignition, which had been so graciously left behind by the previous owner. The engine stuttered once, then roared to life and before the two undead could turn their ever-hungry attentions towards the front window of the van, Kyle began invoking his sleepless revenge upon the creatures. He slammed his foot down on the gas, launching the van forward only to pin both zombies between it and the rear of the vehicle in front. After getting over the jolt of colliding with another vehicle, he shifted the van into reverse and pulled back, watching with a sick joy only brought about by a severe lack of sleep as the severed halves of the zombies plopped to the ground.

"That was satisfying," he said aloud to himself, as if he needed to clarify and reinforce how he felt. "Almost as nice as watching the adult version of that kid who always beat you up in high school get gang banged in the back of a prison bathroom by three guys, all of which are named Bubba."

Although he never truly expected some sort of response to his pointless self-banter, Kyle couldn't help but glance over at the empty seat at his side, wishing he could hear Veronica call him an idiot while watching the slight hint of a smile part her lips.

The world moved not upon its own accord, but to his desires. Billy did not wake because the sun began to rise, but instead the sun began to rise simply because he woke, because he willed the morning to come and bring with it the anticipated joy of a hunt and all too sweet reunion. Almost as soon as his eyes opened, he watched the sunlight pierce through the windows of the hospital room, slowly illuminating the floor, the foot of the bed, and then finally himself, giving the highest praise to the most worthy of entities. He licked his lips, as if to taste the golden glory presented by the sun in his honor.

"From childhood's hour I have not been," Billy muttered but to himself, shutting his eyes and breathing deep, "as others were; I have not seen as others saw." He ran his hands to the corners of his eyes, the tips of his middle fingers gliding along the sides of his nose as he slid his hands along his face. "I could not bring my passions from a common spring."

Sitting up, he wondered for a moment if his Lenore, Prospero, could hear his words and even if she could, if she would know his voice. "From the same source I have not taken my sorrow; I could not awaken," like a dancer performing a well-practiced routine, Billy stood to his feet and turned towards the door. His legs carried him through both the dawn's welcome tribute and the shadows it had yet to vanquish, "my heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone."

"Then!" Billy shouted, flinging open the door of the room like a gateway to Hell, to release the worst of creatures upon the world. "In my childhood, in the dawn of a most stormy life," he grinned as he stepped out into the barren, lifeless hallway and his hand went to his sword hilt, knowing that blood had to be shed, "was drawn from every depth of good and ill, the mystery which binds me still!"

Darkness had consumed the hospital despite the dawn. Stillness laid where once the slimy, forsaken leeches once slithered. Death consumed the voids left of the corpses upon the floor but still unnatural life breathed within the hospital's walls, paying its own tribute to Billy's presence; that of the promise of blood. They had sought carnage within the building, to prey upon the weak and cover their claws red with blood. In much the same, so had Billy.

"From the torrent, or the fountain," he stood atop the stairwell descending to the first floor, the very same stairwell his precious Lenore traversed the day before.

"From the red cliff of the mountain, from the sun that round me rolled in its Autumn tint of gold," and there they stood, the hunchback figures of biological instruments of absolute death.

"From the lightning in the sky as it passed me flying by," a screech ran rampant through the air, attempting to overpower Billy's verse to no avail.

"From the thunder and the storm, and the cloud that took the form," he watched as the reptilian creature a couple of yards in front of him readied itself for combat and listened to the faint footsteps of two more off in the distance.

"When the rest of Heaven was blue," Billy pressed the button to his weapon, the blade launching out, practically craving blood as much as himself, "of a Demon in my view."


	43. Part 42

"Tell me, Prospero, is this blood trail a mark of your cowardice?" The path laid before him was more red than green, cutting through the park in a haphazard disarray of confusion. Several members of the undead order that had taken over the city had begun to swarm the trail, feasting upon the severed remains of all of Prospero's victims. "Efficiency ruled by fear. Distraught turned cadaverous. Is it pleasure, or is it pain?"

He stopped before a small crowd of undead, tearing into the cold, headless body of what had formally been one of their own. Beside them loomed a tall, ancient tree, ever oblivious to the damned city's plight with its branches draped over the feast like several boney hands just dying to join the party. Crouching down, Billy's hand braced the cool earth and he watched the mindless savages give into their unnatural cravings. Poetic beauty became their twitching, wretched movements, like a bunch of young children tearing apart the wrapping of a giant gift on Christmas morning. So young and naïve these humans-turned-beasts, fit only to tarry in the sole existence their minds could ever conceive while their betters, namely Billy, dominate the land they formerly ruled.

"Blood, salty and sweet like a fine raspberry jam." Billy licked his lips and dug his fingernails into the dirt while bracing the hilt to his mechanical sword with his opposite hand. "Might I coat my blade in your poisonous delicacy, if only for a moment?"

An empty moan filling the vacant air behind him gave him the permission he sought and soon the aroma of decayed, vile blood once more filled the air as a corpse became pieces, and those pieces showered the grass in a fine, red mist. Returning his attention to the creatures that had reduced what was once a human to little more than an unrecognizable pile of gore, Billy aimed the tip of his blade at them and called out once more, "Salty and sweet like a fine raspberry jam! Might I join my Lenore in having but a taste?"

Swaying to his side, drunk on the intoxicated promise of bloodshed, Billy sized up his soon-to-be victims' movements, noting how little they paid attention to him in light of their current feast. If they wanted to ignore the biggest threat that the city had to offer, he wouldn't complain. Instead, he decided to take enjoyment in ending their miserable existences for their carelessness. As he dashed forward, he imagined that anyone lucky enough to watch his movements would have seen nothing more than his body gliding over the ground, followed by a rain shower of blood. His blade cut through the zombies' rotten flesh as if he were merely swiping through the air. Their limbs fell so easily from their bodies and soon not even one senseless corpse stood around him to take absent amazement at his dark artwork.

"I know what one would ask of me if there were one to pose a question," Billy began to himself, sliding the flat side of his blade against his open palm, painting it red with the blood of the most recently fallen. "What meaning does a god have for slaying those over which he rules?" He flipped his blade over and repeated the previous motion. "To this, I'd answer, 'Because it is the right, the privilege of a god to act however he pleases and what pleases me is to watch the weak and the failed fall before me.'"

With a quick press of one of the buttons adorned to the hilt of his blade, the weapon sheathed itself and he returned it to its place upon his belt. Following this, he took a moment to examine the markings of death he left scattered on the ground before continuing his pursuit of Prospero. He knew where she had gone, felt her concern and worry heavy in the park's air. She had wanted to reclaim Muguil's computer, but that never happened and eventually she gave into her inner demon. For all of a brief moment, she accepted her nature and Billy felt that acceptance, bringing a smile to his sinister lips as he traced her steps, practically witnessing her frantic attempt at escape from her madness play out right before his eyes.

"I do wonder why you even try to flee, my dear Prospero, my darling little coward. Fear is the dominion of man, is it not? Yet, have you not tasted the greatness of what you and I are capable of? Why must you cling onto humanity as if you actually belong to such a miserable group of playthings?" He paused for a moment, allowing his questions to float in the air, waiting to be answered. When only silence replied, his shook his head and sighed. "Soon, I will have my answer, won't I? You can't run forever, Prospero. Eventually, the Red Death shall claim you."

Billy came to a halt when he reached the walkway by the pond that Veronica had, only hours ago, attempted to cross. He turned towards the water, bracing the wooden railing as he peered over. "Is that upon the shoreline I see the bodies of Hunters, dear Lenore? How many times did you almost meet your death here? How many times did the angels almost take you away? Tell me, did you see us beyond the white light? Did you ever hear those magnificent bells?"

With a short laugh, knowing the answer to his rhetorical question, Billy left the walkway and its bloody, contaminated waters behind. A short amount of time and a half dozen bodies laid to rest later and Billy walked out of the park, his grey uniform having taken on a dirty, red hue from the city's filth. Even though he expected to walk out of the park and into a wasteland of death and rest, he found himself somewhat taken back by the bloody sight his prey left behind for him to find. So many bodies, none of which remained intact, lied scattered amidst the street. A few zombies had made their way to the scene of the massacre to take the organic spoils for themselves, but they were far too busy burying their faces in the chest cavities of corpses to pay much attention to Billy.

"Whispers of carnage in the air, music to my ears." He walked to the middle of the street, going out of his way to crush a severed, pale skull underneath his boot. "And here you found a moment's retrieve, but you don't honestly believe you have escaped, do you Prospero?" A pause followed his words, as if to give a moment for the sounds of undead feasting upon flesh to fill the air. "You think yourself so close to freedom and safety, but you're in denial. I think I pity you, my dear Prospero, for not embracing the gift this city has to offer."

Walking down the center of the street, Billy left the denizens of undeath to their feasts, content on closing in on his target. If he willed it, he might have stopped to slay the senseless fools but he knew that he was close. He could practically feel her every breath linger in the air, and such sensation began to drive him wild with anticipation, wondering how she would look and how she would react upon seeing him. The last words he uttered before losing himself to the thrill of the ever approaching climax was, "Enjoy the journey, for at its end, with salvation mere inches from your fingertips, I shall emerge from the shadows and sever your sinning hands from your body. I can't wait to see the pain in your eyes of knowing you were mere moments from leaving Hell behind right before I slide my blade into your throat. It will be a death fit for a coward."


	44. Part 43

"Hello? It's probably not a great idea to zone out while we're, you know, making our way through a zombie-infested city..."

Had he spoken at all before? Why was it only now that Mark's voice managed to penetrate the wall of absent daze that had taken Veronica's mind hostage? "Yes?" she replied, shaking her head as if to throw away the cloud that had consumed her mind. "I was just… thinking."

"Right," Mark responded almost as if he wasn't several years younger than Veronica and had the right to lecture her. "You really should pay attention. Do you even know where we are right now?"

With a sigh, she casted a quick glance to her right, then her left before answering, "Why don't you just worry about keeping a hold of our supplies instead of mocking someone who could just as easily beat your ass as she could abandon you?"

As if she hadn't just verbally assaulted the kid, he gave a short laugh. "You have no clue where we are."

"We're…" Veronica began, looking around at her surroundings again, finding the same old scenery that had constantly plagued every waking moment of the past few days. She didn't even find it odd anymore that the sight of undead wandering amidst the forest of societal carnage had replaced the typical routine of city life, nor how this ceased to feel so unnatural. "Definitely… on a street…"

"Wow, no way!" His use of sarcasm only served to appeal to that part of Veronica that increasingly wanted to kick him. While she felt sure that Mark had simply begun warming up to her company, and despite how much she knew that she would be a wreck if she were left to her own devices, none of this changed the fact that Mark began to get on her nerves. "For all you know, I could have been leading you into a massive horde of zombies because I'm really some sort of sick maniac who leads survivors to their deaths."

Then again, she thought as she rolled her eyes, perhaps Mark's tendency to irritate her would work out much the same as how Kyle tended to annoy her. In the end, maybe she simply couldn't take true comfort in other person's presence, instead having to twist around her constant annoyance for everything human-like in order to fill the void left by her internal desire to be alone. But, at this point, she doubted that she would be able to handle being alone.

"And for all you know, I could be a worse monster than anything you have seen so far."

Mark laughed, pulling the strap of the duffle bag higher up on his shoulder. "Right, I'm so scared." Had he forgotten how she massacred the small horde of zombies that had swarmed him the day before?

"Whatever." Veronica muttered, sure that her newest companion never heard her. Even if he had, he fell silent. Maybe the realization of what a terrible beast he had joined finally began to sink in.

Silence filled the void where conversation should have been in order to keep both survivors' nerves from running thin. Honestly, Mark might have started speaking again, but Veronica tuned him and much of her surroundings out to the point where she was only vaguely aware that he led her through a short alley onto a smaller street. The usual heaviness of the empty buildings and car-laden streets had been left behind within the heart of the city, replaced by a more residential setting. The buildings, as empty and hollow as all the others within the city, boasted only of lost memories of past lives, sorrow and horror. Perhaps she couldn't much bear such sights any longer, retreating to the recesses of her mind in order to find some much needed sanctuary or maybe she was just afraid of what would become of her if she allowed her mind to linger upon the city any longer.

Every now and then, Veronica thought she heard Kyle speaking to her. In retrospect, it may have been Mark trying in vain to communicate with her again, but his presence had become all but entirely lost to her. As Kyle's voice echoed through her mind, plucking at the few strings left that kept her heart tied together, it occurred to Veronica that, in the end, she had no grounds for missing him as much as she allowed herself to believe that she did. In fact, she urged herself to believe that what she shared with him two nights ago in the hospital had been nothing but a mistake brought on by extreme distraught.

But why, then, had she felt so concerned about his safety in the first place? Why did she care about him so much? She hated to think it genuine, the thought alone doing enough to cause her stomach to churn, but ultimately that seemed much better than the alternatives. What would she think about herself if she had began to clutch to Kyle's companionship simply because she needed someone to hold onto lest she end up losing herself to the city? She never wanted to feel the desperate and pathetic, even if it was the truth.

When a nearby series of gunshots brought Veronica out of her thoughts, she found herself burying her nails into her palms with a light sweat covering her exposed skin. In an instant, her surroundings bombarded her senses and like a bulldozer, the pungent aroma of rotten flesh and food tore through her nose and demolished her lungs, causing her to begin gagging. Tears clouded her vision until she keeled over and everything fell black.

"I told you that we were approaching the outdoor market and it'd probably be pretty bad," Mark said aloud, his voice muffled by his shirt in order to help fight off the intensity of the putrid air. He waited a moment, most likely to see if Veronica would pass out before asking, "Should we go check out the source of those gunshots?"

Veronica shook her head, speaking between gags while trying to get over the smell of a cocktail of decay. "From my experience, gunshots only lead to more trouble than they're worth."

"But," Mark protested, immediately reminding Veronica of when Kyle's concern ushered him and her into risking their lives within the apartment building in order to save a woman who died shortly after they arrived. In fact, she could practically tell verbatim what his next words would be. "We can't just walk away."

Another series of gunshots rang out in the nearby vicinity, pounding its way through Veronica's ears as she searched Mark's face for something, anything to spur her into arguing with him. After all, she didn't care about the source of the gunshot and she knew that she shouldn't have cared for Mark or whatever he intended to do. If he wanted to run off headfirst into danger, then so be it but she had no reason to follow. No reason, that was, except that if she didn't follow she would have to bear the guilt of his fate on her shoulders, alone and as much as she feared giving into his request and facing the source of the gunshot, she feared how easily her innards would shatter if she didn't.

"Fine," she coughed, slowly adapting to how terrible the air smelled. "But you stay back and out of sight until I know what's going on."

Mark quietly obliged to Veronica's request and disappeared into an alley off to her right. Following this, she cleared her throat and braced herself for an upcoming confrontation. Somehow, she knew that whoever was firing a gun in the market wouldn't be some survivor just trying to make it out alive. In some odd way, she kind of wished that true, despite how she hoped to avoid battle. If someone attacked her, she had the right to defend herself, but she wondered if that made her desire for bloodshed any better. Was she more so going through with this because she wanted to find someone to kill rather than in order to appeal to Mark's sense of humanity in seeking other survivors?

Stepping off the street and around the corner of a nearby building, Veronica found herself standing in front of a medium sized lot. Several wooden merchant stands stood around the field in long rows, all of their displayed products having gone rotten days ago. Fruit no longer bore any of its old, lively colors and meat only served to entice swarms of flies. Of course, bodies littered the ground, some of which had been stacked in small piles of motionless decay as if someone were actually collecting the bodies of the deceased.

Only one figure stood in the field, directly down the row of stalls that Veronica stood at, the person's back facing her as if entirely oblivious to her existence. She had half a mind to shout out in order to grab the person's attention, if that person was even capable of being spoken to, but she opted against that, choosing instead to begin to approach. Closing the distance between this individual, she thought, would give her a better advantage at dealing with him if he were hostile. In the end, she made it about five steps towards him before he spun around, a gun in each of his hands. Veronica had just enough time to dive behind the cover of one of the vendor stands before a hailstorm of bullets tore through the air.

"Of course," she muttered, taking her handguns from her holsters, making no attempt to hide her anger at being shot at in the faint hopes that whoever shot at her would realize that she was alive and would cease his assault. "Of fucking course! I never get tired of almost being killed!"

"Come out!" the man called. "It's okay!"

Veronica had half a mind to reply, "It's not fucking okay! You nearly KILLED me!" but instead, chose to stay in place and listen for a few moments. When stillness returned to the foul air of the market, she peered around the corner of the stall she was using as cover only to find the man aiming both his guns right for her skull. No sooner did she pull back than a rapid series of bullets tore into the wooden stand.

The man called out once more after kicking a severed head, causing it to roll past Veronica's temporary shield from gunfire. "Don't hide! I'm only trying to help you!" It would only be a matter of time before he closed in on her.

Veronica remained silent, opting instead to walk around the opposite side of her cover that this trigger-happy psychopath would walk around. Cutting through one of the aisles in the graveyard of open commerce, pressing her back against another stand, she yelled, "Right! You're trying to help me by blowing my brains out!"

"Do you believe in God?" She peered around the corner of her new cover only to find him standing an aisle over, looking around for her. "He's disappointed with us, you know. This is His punishment. Do you believe?"

Silence took her lips, partly because she wanted to remain relatively hidden from her stalker but also because she didn't really have an answer to that question.

"First He took the sinners, then allowed the sinners to take the saints. Oh, my wonderful, loving family, carried away to his embrace on sheets of blood!" Veronica heard his voice grow louder, telling her that he had started to approach her general direction. "He took everything I had, but left me! Do you know why?" He gave a short pause, as if expecting Veronica to offer up some sort of answer. "Because He wants my help in bringing the end! Only then can I experience bliss and see my family again! Do you believe?"

It felt odd to think how little she had lost from the incident, how meaningless her life had been. For a moment, she returned to thoughts that she believed she had forgotten a long time ago. Why was she even trying so hard to live, even in spite of her waning sanity. Did she actually have anything worth living for? Where did she have to go after escaping Raccoon City? How could she ever return to a normal life? Briefly, as if speaking from beyond the grave, Robert's voice tore through her skull, not to blame her for his death but to remind her that herself, as well as every other living being inside the city, was already dead when this incident began.

"There is only one answer," the man's voice carried heavy through the air and Veronica knew he stood only a few feet behind the wooden market stall she pressed her back against. In the next moment, she would have to act quickly if she had any hope of ever leaving the blood filled lot of land behind. "His name is The Lord and I am his humble servant." In one swift motion, he dashed around the corner of the stand at the exact moment that Veronica stood up to make her move. "DO YOU BELIEVE?"

He pulled the triggers to his guns but nothing came out. Faint clicks followed his vain attempts at ending Veronica's life as the guns did what they could to enact this man's desire to kill. Oddly enough, for a few moments, he stood there aiming his guns at her, absently firing away to no avail, giving Veronica enough time to slip her guns away and draw her wrist blade. When she closed the short distance that separated him and her, she found a horrible absence in this man's wide eyes and nothing but insane devotion in his traumatized smile.

Slipping between his raised arms, plunging her blade into his stomach, Veronica found herself whispering in his ear. "I believe that if there is a God," she paused as the man's guns fell from his grasp and hit the ground. Twisting her blade into his stomach before pulling it up towards his chest, she continued, "He's a real prick."

The man took his last, dying breaths in peace and joined the rest of the organic decay that littered the area. For a while, Veronica stood above the man's motionless body, the front of her shirt burning with the warmth of his blood. Even a faint breeze that tore through the air, perhaps in an attempt to remove the foulness that claimed the lot of land, failed to blow away how comforting the warmth felt. In the end, it was only Mark's distant call that pulled Veronica from the deepest depths of her sick insanity. If there did exist a god, she thought as she looked down at the body of her latest victim, then He would have to be the most terrible, twisted creature to ever grace existence.


	45. Part 44

"Damnit," Kyle uttered, tapping his forehead against the top of the van's steering wheel repeatedly. "Damnit, damnit, damnit."

Despite having figured out his location and finally having settled on the direction he needed to travel in order to, at least, meet up with Veronica along the highway he knew that she intended to use in order to leave the city, any amount of luck that stood at Kyle's side had abandoned ship. While he had managed to travel quite some distance in the van, a task that he previously thought near impossible but several scratches and dings from nudging other, smaller cars out of the way proved otherwise, Kyle finally met his match. The front two tires of the vehicle blew out as he attempted to back away from a fire truck, which stood across the street like a dead, mechanical wall. It wasn't long thereafter that the entire van simply refused to move again.

"Well," he began in defeat, lifting his head from the steering wheel. "We had a good run, didn't we? It's a shame things had to end like this, darling." Of course, he caressed the steering wheel as if the vehicle actually had any semblance to human feeling. "And to think, I was going to turn you into my very own Mystery Machine if we made it out of here." He paused for just a brief second before adding, "And before you ask, yes, I did intend to wear an ascot."

Sighing from the lack of any response, Kyle rolled his eyes at the sheer rudeness of the van for not being capable of replying and unbuckled his seatbelt. His fingers wound around the door handle as he prepared himself once again to enter the world of survival horror. "Wish me luck."

Just as he began to open the door, a large mass of matted, bloody fur crashed against the windshield, forcing a quick succession of surprised curses from Kyle's lips. Peering through the several large cracks that now decorated the windshield, he watched as the undead canine that threw itself at the vehicle growled and got to its feet only to dive off the hood of the van. Even before his breathing rate could return to normal, a second dog flung itself at the windshield, causing bits and pieces of glass to bounce off Kyle's chest. One more hit and the windshield would explode into a mess of tempered glass and unbridled, bestial fury.

Bracing himself as the last dog to dive into the windshield picked itself up and retreated from the hood of the van, Kyle could only utter, "I have officially just become a cat person."

Another of the undead dogs began to bark from outside the vehicle. Knowing full well that remaining in place would be just about as good as sticking the barrel of his magnum in his mouth and pulling the trigger, Kyle realized that he had no choice but to abandon the van to its fate and attempt to escape on foot. He glanced out the driver's side window, finding a large dog foaming at the mouth while standing to the front left of the van. If he had time, perhaps he would have checked the passenger side to see if escape from that side would be more plausible but before such a thought could even cross his mind, another dog leapt onto the hood of the vehicle and forced his hand. Before Kyle knew it, his feet hit the ground and he began to run, a savage cacophony of barking and growling of the rabid pack of dogs following his every footstep.

"Shit!" One of his pursuers jumped and landed directly beside Kyle as he ran. It immediately attempted to launch itself up onto his chest and take him down to the ground, but quick thinking and good timing led to loud gunshot, the recoil of which nearly caused Kyle to drop his magnum. At least, however, the body of the creature toppled to the ground and ceased moving. As much as Kyle would have liked to take a moment and praise himself for his outstanding ability to fire guns and kick ass, he still had a sizeable pack of bloodthirsty animals hot on his trail.

Because Kyle's mind could never rest, as to do so would be to submit himself to the overbearing burden of facing hopeless reality, mixed in with ideas on how to escape were thoughts of Veronica. So close to his death, one simply trip would guarantee his throat being torn out, Kyle couldn't help but to question if she had faced such overwhelming obstacles and if she were even still alive. Then, just before an image of zombies tearing apart the woman he had spent so much time with over the last few days could rise and fester at the forefront of his mind for too long, Kyle slid over the hood of a car in his direct path. As soon as he landed on the other side, one of the canines leapt over him, landing directly in front of him, its yellow, sharp teeth highlighted by sunlight as if to say, "Yes Kyle. Today you die."

A single bullet obliterated the canine's wicked smile and sent it sprawling to the ground with one short-lived whine. As soon as the echo of the gunshot dissipated, a howl ran rampant through the air and caused Kyle to pick up fleeing once more. At first, he dashed towards an alley, hoping to cut across a street or two and lose his pursuers through the winding maze of buildings, but a last minute decision changed his mind. "That's all I need, to be caught between some hungry dogs and some conveniently placed undead right at the end of an alley."

Dashing down the sidewalk in order to avoid being slowed down by the cluster of cars in the street, a zombie stood to its feet and began to shamble directly into Kyle's path. Wasting no time, he shot the creature in the skull and ran by, taking some relief in hearing a few of the demon dogs begin to gnaw at the corpse and stop chasing him. That said, he was far from safe as a quick glance over his shoulder assured him that about six more continued pursuit, ever determined to seize fresh meat.

What followed was more of a mess of gunshots and quick dodges. Time no longer had relevance, replaced more so by movements and motions. Footsteps took the place of seconds and gunshots crushed minutes, leaving several corpses and a couple more dogs in its wake. Eventually, as Kyle's body once more burned with exhaustion, he found himself rushing into the lobby of what used to be a public wellness center in some sort of desperate attempt to escape being torn to shreds. However, even the front doors to the building failed to stop the creatures that chased him and soon the ticking of their nails against the solid floor of the building mixed in with Kyle's unending footsteps. As he dashed through the lobby, paying little to no attention to the undead that still wandered the room, his thoughts continued to return to Veronica because in the end, he knew that she was the only real reason he had tried so hard to stay alive.

A dog barked and another howled. Then, a door closed and aside from the desperate scratching and barking from the opposite side, peace briefly returned to Kyle. Standing within one of the building's stairwells, a heavy door held firmly closed behind his back, Kyle could only utter, "Thank God dogs lack opposable thumbs."

Having little other options, Kyle began to ascend the stairs, figuring that at the very least, he could reach the roof and attempt to make out his location and its surroundings before leaving. The trek proved ultimately daunting and tiresome, the floors winding on and on for what seemed like forever even though the building only spanned about five stories in height. However, the doors to the stairwell had done their fair share at keeping any and all of the city's monstrosities from entering, giving Kyle a much needed mental break from survival.

Out of breath with his legs burning away underneath his weight, Kyle finally made it to the roof. Pushing open the door, a cool, welcomed breeze consumed his body. For a moment, he wanted to collapse and bask in relative safety for a while. Off in the distance, some faint caws of the all too mocking crows lingered in the air and every now and then, he could have sworn he heard the barking of a dog amidst the whistle of the wind. After getting his fair share of the city as experienced from the roof of a five story building, Kyle made his way over to the railing that stood just before the edge of the roof and peered out at the tops of other, smaller buildings and the streets below.

It took a few minutes after looking out to the remains of desperate survivors that sought refuge on rooftops and the river of dead metallic machines and blood that had replaced the street before Kyle caught sight of a figure walking off in the distance. As hard to make out as it was, Kyle knew that the figure was Veronica. It seemed odd how sure he felt to the identity of the distant person, but little to no doubt existed in his mind. Even if it turned out he was wrong, then he had merely stumbled across the presence of another survivor on his or her way towards the highway and out of Raccoon City.

However, before he could attempt to call out and capture this person's attention, he caught sight of another figure, creeping along in the background like a shadow. The figure seemed more like a dark, grey blob following in what Kyle assumed to be Veronica's tracks. Nothing in the world would have convinced Kyle that this person meant anything other than ill intent and even though fatigue began to run its course through Kyle's body, he began to move, determined to confront this stalker before he could do anything.


	46. Part 45

Mark hadn't said a word since reuniting with Veronica following her defeat of the maniac in the market. Even as hours passed and the hoards of undead turned to small groups and finally distant, lone wanderers, his lips stayed still. He walked at her side as if caught within some enthralling reverie, which despite her brief amount of time spent with him, seemed odd to Veronica. At points, she felt inclined to spark some sort of conversation with him, but continued in nourishing the silent travel that had encompassed them both. She had no right forcing him to speak and found it disturbing that she felt so unsettled by his silence.

Regardless of Mark's lapse of liveliness, the two survivors had made their way away from the clutches of the inner city. Travel went easier as the roads became less congested with useless, metallic scrap and mindless, bloodthirsty monsters. It proved near impossible for Veronica not to succumb to a faint sense of peace after escaping several days' worth of sheer horror and near death experiences. Soon, she hoped, they would leave the city behind to its fate and begin their trek down the highway. Of course, it was then that she wondered once more if it would even be possible to truly leave Raccoon City behind and move on. As if the thought of the city's lingering scar on her soul hadn't been enough to instill distress in her previously calming nerves, for the first time it dawned on her that she had no true basis for assuming that leaving the city meant safety. The only evidence she had to go on that the city's disease hadn't spread much further than its boundaries and seized most of the country rested in the fact that Umbrella had sent mercenaries to the city. However, that never meant that nearby towns and neighboring cities hadn't also been infected. The more she allowed herself to think into it, the more she wished that her mind never drifted to such hopeless thoughts, especially since hope seemed to be all she had left to keep herself together.

The winding suburban streets appeared more like a ghost town than the site of some terrible disaster. Whoever had lived in the suburbs most likely had the chance to escape the city before feeling the wrath of Hell tear through the streets and turn reality into a living nightmare. Only reminders of a rather peaceful life remained at the sides of the street. The houses stood empty, their respective lawns and driveways just as barren. Whatever did remain, such as the cars of the people who refused to abandon their homes or the occasional zombie and undead dog, managed to do next to nothing to quench the absence that held so strongly within the air.

The sun began to set on the horizon, disappearing behind the tops of the distant trees that represented the forested outskirts of the city. Like some sort of archaic, and now utterly useless, habit, a few of the streetlights flickered to life, offering some sort of vague comfort against the approaching night. Perhaps, Veronica thought, they would continue to lead her and Mark out of the city before powering down for the last time. With that thought, she could only hope that Kyle had already managed to make his way out of the city so that he wouldn't be left behind for the darkness to consume.

"Why did you kill him?" Mark asked, every semblance to human emotion vacant from his voice.

The question caught Veronica off guard and she had to struggle away from her absent, wandering thoughts in order to find the strength to reply. "What?"

How many people, actual people had she killed? She ended Robert's life out of pity, so that he wouldn't have to face falling to the disease of the city. Or was it because she saw him as a threat to her own survival? Veronica hated to think herself so selfish, so inhuman, but knew all too well that she had cared so little for him that it wouldn't have been hard for her to imagine herself jumping at the chance to rid Robert's presence from her side.

"You know what," Mark replied, but all Veronica heard was Robert saying, "There's no going back from here, is there? Even if we do live and make it out of here, how could we ever reclaim what we lost? How could we ever go back to living a normal life?"

"Pretend it never happened?" Veronica absently muttered, staring ahead of herself as she walked. For a moment, she could have sworn she heard Robert sobbing in the background.

"Why won't you answer my question? Why did you kill him?"

But the killing didn't end with Robert. Looking back, Veronica began to realize that she had wanted Kathy to fall just as much as she craved Robert's removal from existence. She was a nuisance, a liability, and much like Robert after he was bitten, became only another obstacle against Veronica's survival. She wanted that young, innocent girl to die, which seemed just as bad, if not worse than actually killing her. Hadn't she taken enjoyment out of watching Kathy rise from the dead? For what? Sick, ironic vengeance against a man who never actually did anything wrong?

"Have you ever even fired a gun before?"

"No…"

"Do you even know how to reload the thing?"

There was silence, awkward, frightened silence all as deafening as a nearby explosion.

"You're just going to end up hurting yourself, you know." The young girl's fear began to feed Veronica's savage aggravation as if Veronica desperately needed something, anything, to cling onto in order to rid herself of other troubling thoughts.

"I—I…" Kathy had wanted to fade into that wall she backed against, but she never did. In fact, she stood up to the monster bearing down on her like a true warrior equipped only with her sense of courage, the likes of which the monster would never experience. "I can handle myself…"

"Really?" Veronica closed the distance between herself and her target, ready to go in for the emotional kill. "I didn't see you do a damn thing yesterday when I was about to be killed by that thing!"

"I—" the young girl began before Veronica cut her off.

"What? You, what!"

More silence, because in a realm where fear ruled with an iron fist, it took a lot of willpower to find the ability to speak. But finally, so long after her final breath, Kathy finished what she should have said so many days ago.

"I'm scared! I'm so scared! Why don't you understand? Why? Aren't you scared too?"

Mark's voice broke through Veronica's mind just as the echoes of Kathy's words faded to nothing. "What are you talking about? He never did that! He didn't need to die!"

While she heard his words, his distressed cries, their meanings were entirely lost to her. Instead, her mind continued on its downward plunge into insanity until it settled on the mercenaries that she killed and the one that she allowed to die before her eyes. Like a ruthless beast, she killed the mercenaries that she and Kyle met atop the elementary school, giving birth to the first time she felt the pleasure of warm blood against her skin. Then, there was Muguil and try as she might, Veronica knew that the only reason she ever sought him out was not for answers, but because she knew he would attack her, giving her the moral excuse to slay him. She needed such a false reason in order to keep herself from tearing in half over the vague line that separated the sane from the insane.

"It was in self defense!" Veronica yelled, unable to determine just who she was trying to persuade.

A voice whispered in her right ear, "You know what?" He laughed. "I bet you're just as sick as I am. Somewhere, deep down inside—"

She clutched her hands against her ears and forced her eyes shut, shaking her head side to side in an attempt to throw off the wretched spirit haunting her."Shut up! Just, shut up! I'm nothing like you!"

"Little girl," a second voice whispered in her left ear. "Do you even know what you've gotten yourself into?"

"Please! Stop!" she screamed, collapsing to her knees. "You're supposed to be dead! Leave me ALONE!"

Behind the fading laughter of her victims came Mark's voice once again, accusing more so than asking her, "You killed him! Tell me why!" Why should he have had any sort of compassion for her when she was no better than any of the other mindless, bloodthirsty monstrosities in the city?

For a brief moment, the veil of black that had closed over her eyes gave way to the sight of the mercenary she left to die. His pleas for help fell upon her ears once more and once more she tried to ignore them. The zombies tore into his helpless body because she wanted it to happen. She had wanted them to feast, wanted him to suffer so that in some sick way, she could feel better about herself for having the power and the ability to stay alive and watch as others died.

"What's wrong with you!"

"I… I don't know…" Veronica began to sob, her arms falling to her side as she drowned beneath the weight of her inner oppression. Between helpless gasps for air, she began to open her eyes and there, standing before her, she saw her latest victim.

"I… I lost my family to these things. Please, help me," he pleaded as he approached her, the sorrow raised from the departure of his loved ones scarred across his face like a battle wound.

"Tell me," Veronica began to speak even though her mouth never moved. "Do you believe in God?"

The man stopped for a moment, obviously caught off guard by her question. "Yes… but what—"

She cut him off and Veronica watched herself depart from her place on the ground and approach this man. "You believe in some overlord that let THIS happen?" She opened her arms, as if to reveal the amount of death and decay that surrounded them for the first time.

"I—I," he stuttered, trying to find the words to speak while confronting Veronica, just as Kathy did an entire lifetime ago.

Her blade released from its sheath and the man's eyes went wide. "You're a fool."

"Don't come any closer!" He lifted up the two guns he held, aiming them directly at her, but her movements never wavered.

In an instant, she rushed the man. As she ran, from the sidelines Mark began to call out for her to stop. Even from where she knelt on the ground and watched this occur, Veronica found herself crying out for her alter to stop what she was doing. However, both calls went unheeded. The man attempted to fire his guns, which to his dismay failed to fire any bullets. Shortly thereafter, Veronica stuck her blade into his gut, pulled him close to herself and whispered in his ear, "There is no God. There is only Death, and through me I unite you with the only truly powerful entity in existence."

In the moments that followed, Veronica began to tear the man apart. Luckily, for her own sanity, the gore feast ended early as the memory faded from her sight. Veronica found the world around her begin to constrict her body, squeezing all the air from her lungs while lighting her innards on fire. She wanted nothing more than to collapse to the ground and cry herself into oblivion. It would only be a matter of time before she lost everything that she was to her inner demon and for once, she began to think that any sort of escape, even that, would prove better than living still conscious of her actions.

Pulling her wet hands away from her face, noticing that Mark had left her side most likely out of utter disgust, Veronica looked up to the dark blue sky, finding the overbearing light of a streetlamp shining down on her and her immediate surroundings. She sat beneath its glow, removed from the darkness the surrounded the rest of the city for all of a minute before the light blinked off. Seconds passed as she sat alone in the darkness, staring down into the paved abyss beneath her, wishing that she would sink into it and drown. Then, like some forsaken miracle, the light flickered on once more, forcing her to face herself again.

Distant, as if never even spoken at all, came the words, "Prospero, the Red Death has come for you. So long you ran, but I am here and you can run no longer."

A pause followed, perhaps giving the specter enough time to vanish within the shadows. Soon, however, a second, almost entirely similar voice spoke out, "Lenore! Sweet, Lenore! I thought you taken from me, my darling! My dear!"

She wanted to turn and look, but found that her body willed against it. Besides, she knew what words were to come, which didn't stop the dread from running through her bones as they were spoken. Perhaps she knew all along what would come and simply had refused to acknowledge that nightmares within nightmares could ever come to fruition.

"I'm going to watch you bleed to death."


	47. Part 46

"Is that so?" Veronica replied to the man's comment, lowering her head in defeat. Robert had been right. There would never be an escape. "Others have tried, you know."

The man laughed, the sound of his chuckles carrying through the air like the rotten feather of a crow wafting through a light breeze until it finally settled. "I don't think I would have the pleasure of being here if they hadn't, darling Lenore."

She sighed, bracing herself to stand up. The light that illuminated the small, circular area around her flickered a couple of times and then went off, letting the night swallow her whole. "I'd ask you to give me a reason to kill you," she slipped her hands to her guns as she stood to her feet in order to face her opponent. It seemed odd how tranquil everything became in light of the oncoming confrontation that would leave one of them dead. Her insides no longer twisted and churned. Her lungs no longer felt like collapsing and her flesh no longer burned. She was alone with the promise of bloodshed, her only comfort. "But… I don't think I care anymore for excuses."

"Prospero finishes running." The man, little more than a shadow in the night, began to walk towards her, swaying with each slow step. "I wonder, is it because you finally wish to face the Red Death, or is it because you've merely found yourself cornered? Tell me, my dear, how does it feel to know that salvation lies through a trail made of my blood?"

Salvation? Did she even care for such a thing anymore? "Enthralling… I almost wouldn't have it any other way." She found herself pausing; the words that so easily drifted from her lips keeping still for but a moment, allowing her to speak her mind instead of letting her demon dictate her actions. "I… I really should have expected as much."

"But," he spoke before she could get anything else out. His shadowed form continued to approach her, stopping only a few yards from where she stood. "Did you expect to see me, lovely Lenore?"

"Lenore? Are you insane?" She found herself speaking under no real direction of her own. Despite being confronted by someone so alien to her, she couldn't help but speak with him as if she had known him for years, regardless of how much she knew that she should keep her guard up.

"I'm as sane as you, my sweet. You may go by whatever name you wish, but always and forever you are to me my sweet Lenore." He lifted up his arm, pointing a long, indiscernible object at her. "We were together for so long, yet so short. They took you away. They called you a failure, a travesty, but they didn't know that you hadn't heard the bells!" He stopped to laugh, waving around what Veronica assumed to be his weapon. "Though, I expected that you forgot. You forgot so much, but you needn't worry my dear, for it was not your fault, but those wretched, spiteful angels wished you forget of your existence there, with me."

"You're mad…" Veronica muttered with all the enthusiasm of a child forced to do schoolwork. Somehow, she came to expect nothing less from this man.

"Oh, I love you so, Lenore." He threw his arms up in the air, tossing his head back to the night sky. "I love you so much, despite how much of a coward you are! Come, bow to your superior before he spills your blood and reacquaints you with those wonderful bells."

As if he had control over the very fabric and motions of reality, the few working nearby streetlights sprung to life. Standing before Veronica, illuminated in all his glory, a pale, blood-covered husk of a man stood, waving a sword through the air as if directing the stars above their heads. With a spasmodic twitch, his head shot upright and his cold, dark eyes focused on Veronica. Slowly, he lowered his arm, grinned and pointed the tip of his sword at her.

"I'm already dead," Veronica said with all the conviction she could muster, her words practically tearing through the air, leaving nothing but absent voids of silence in their wake. She pulled her handguns from the holsters at her hip and aimed them at her target.

"You're scared! Prospero! YOU'RE SCARED!" His eyes opened wide, bulging from his face. He licked his lips while his echo was still fresh in the air as if tasting the dried blood still caked to his face.

Every breath she took sent shivers down her spin and once again, she began to crave the warmth of a blanket of blood wrapped around her skin. "Yes, I'm scared," she uttered, her words falling from her lips like a freight train cascading off the edge of a cliff. "I'm scared of myself… I always have been, but I'm not scared of you. I'm not scared of you or any other God damn thing in that city!"

Veronica pulled the triggers to her guns, determined to see her opponent fall to the ground. The gunshots rang through the still air, replacing whatever sort of conversation the two of them shared prior. Whether or not any of her bullets hit her target, she never knew. Before she could so much as utter a single curse, her opponent closed the distance between them and brought his blade down through the air, forcing Veronica to catch his weapon between her handguns in order to prevent it slicing her head in two.

Bringing down more of his strength on his sword, the disturbed man whispered, "You've heard the bells before, haven't you? Not when I heard them so many countless ages ago, but recently. Oh, Lenore!" He grinned as he brought the edge of his sword ever closer to Veronica's forehead. "That's why they took you away! You heard those sweet bells far too late and they never knew! They never thought you were a god like me!"

Struggling to keep her end of the parry up, Veronica managed to reply, "I'm getting real fucking tired of listening to you!"

For a brief second, nearly all tension ceased from her opponent. Of course, just before she could utilize the opening, he twisted his blade and swiped it to the side, forcing one of Veronica's handguns out of her grip. Wasting no time, she retaliated by lodging a couple of bullets into him, causing him to stagger backwards. What damage being shot at point blank range did to the psychopath obviously did little to hinder his assault, as no fewer than three seconds passed before he attacked once more, sending his blade through the air towards Veronica's neck. She avoided decapitation by ducking, only to have him plant his boot against her jaw, knocking her backwards onto the ground.

Before Veronica could so much as realize that the pleasant warmth she felt cascading down her face was her own blood, her opponent ran to her and kicked her other gun from her grasp, sending it sprawling into the distance. Even though the world spun around in circles, she could make out this man's image as he stood above her, sword resting on top of his shoulder as he admired the sight of his defenseless, injured prey beneath him.

"You left me with nothing, sweet Lenore. Nothing except the mental embrace of countless pages." He laughed to himself, weighing his blade in his hand, without a doubt readying himself to end Veronica's life in one swift slash. "Loneliness became my muse in my personal prison. Text can only do so much for a starved, broken heart." Rolling his head around his shoulders, he looked down at Veronica and grinned. "But I became a god while you ran away, Prospero. You ran and I became everything that every mortal dreams of! I am death! I am life! I am the incarnation of the Red Death!"

He lifted his blade into the air and began to swing it down at Veronica. Dizziness still plaguing her eyes, the saltiness of her own blood gracing the tip of her lips and tongue, Veronica let out a short, forced laugh, flicked her wrist and released her hidden blade just in time to deflect the man's sword. No sooner did the clang of metal colliding dissipate in the heavy air than Veronica forced herself to sit up and jam her knife into her opponent's thigh. Then, she only knew an intense, throbbing and burning pain from the side of her skull, the wonderful, blissful warmth of blood against her cheek and the cold, hard embrace of the ground.

"Do you remember those white rooms, the torture chambers painted in invisible blood, the souls of others like us and the unending concert of agony screams?" The man's voice entered Veronica's temporary realm of semi-consciousness. "The hands of God? How were they to know that death was the key to our disease? Those bells were so sweet when I heard them, Lenore! So very sweet! I had wanted to stay, but they wanted a tool. Instead, they got a ruler." Footsteps. Slowly, the darkness gave way to scattered lights against a dark, midnight blue background. "When you heard those bells, were they as sweet as I remember?"

She knew that she needed to move, but her body fought against any desire to stand up. Death waited for her if she held still any longer and part of her wanted to embrace that calling. Part of her wanted to accept her fate, thinking that perhaps she deserved to die or that she would find true peace beyond the grasps of life. His blade could be His scythe and she could have chosen to embrace such an entity with open arms.

But she didn't. She couldn't let herself give up, not after all she had been through. Even as that part of her that wanted so much to escape from everything that haunted her for the past few, terrible days, she continued to think, "How long would Kyle wait for me?"

Somehow, Veronica found herself on her feet, the figure of her opponent standing just beyond the reaches of one of the streetlights. She swayed to the side, having to force herself to regain balance as he began to walk towards her, his blade hanging at his side as a mere extension of his arm.

"I'm surprised," he said, stepping into the light for only a moment before passing through the other side. As soon as he reentered the darkness that controlled nearly all of the air, he ran at Veronica, knocking away her feeble attempt to defend against his attack. She felt the arm equipped with the wrist blade fling to her side. No matter how much she tried, Veronica couldn't prevent herself from screaming as her opponent impaled her upper arm with his blade. With every inch he pushed the cold, sharp metal through her flesh and muscle, another broken scream shot from between her lips. Pain dominated her so much that even as the man pressed against her, his cheek touching hers, she could do nothing but tremble and pant in a futile attempt to displace her agony.

Nuzzling the side of her face for the briefest of moments, the man pushed his blade further through her arm and whispered, "You don't remember the Doctors or those who heard the bells but never returned to Hell? Everything was white. It was like Heaven, if Heaven were made of pain and lies. They wanted to play God, and we were their pawns. Oh, how the tides have turned, right dear Lenore?"

As his words faded into her mind, his hellish embrace practically tearing through her flesh like sandpaper, Veronica found all the pain and warmth that had conquered her senses begin to dissipate. Silence took hold of her ears and the desolate, suburban world disappeared from her eyes. As her consciousness departed from reality, a distant, beating heart began to break through her newfound deafness. Each new beat, like a drum, grew louder, causing deep, penetrating vibrations to surge from her chest. Eventually, the sound and the vibrations became too much to bear. The rhythmic beating rang in her ears until she began to plead for silence. Her body began to feel as if it would shatter with each new beat, as if her bones were made of eggshell and she was slowly falling apart.

When the beating surpassed any sort of tolerance Veronica had left, forcing her to scream absent, soundless yells into the air, her skin lit on fire. She tried to move but found that her body had been bound in place. Her wrists, ankles and neck grew sore and cold while the rest of her body burned. Eventually, those areas fell numb and the constant beating began to fade. For the longest time thereafter, she felt nothing.

"That's all for now," spoke a man whom she could have sworn she had heard before, his last word allowing a bright, white light to conquer the blindness that had fallen over Veronica's eyes. For a moment, all she saw was that white light. "At least you two seem to be sturdier than the others."

Veronica blinked a couple of times. She tried to let out several deep breaths, but couldn't tell whether or not she succeeded. Soon, the image of a man dressed in white came into view, standing before her with a clipboard in hand. The desire to speak and inquire into her location became overwhelming, but try as she might, Veronica couldn't find the power to speak. Only after the man in white left the room did she realize that weakness hadn't stayed her tongue, but fear had kept her mouth shut.

"I… think that," someone began to speak from her side, this voice more young and weak than the last. "That I died. Are you supposed to hear bells when you die?"

Wide eyed, Veronica found her head turning to her left. Sitting there, bound to a cold, metallic chair much like herself sat a young boy with hideously pale skin and the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen. Under no control of her own, Veronica found herself replying, "A white light, maybe… I don't know anything about bells. Are you sure you didn't just pass out?"

"When do you think we'll be able to go home?" the boy asked, as if he hadn't just said that he had died.

Veronica shook her head, but try as she might, she couldn't remove her gaze from the young boy. "I don't know."

"Do you miss the others?"

"I hardly knew them…"

"I'm glad you're still here, Veronica."

She began to suffocate with the mention of her name, all of the air within her lungs instantly fading from existence. The boy closed his dark eyes and lowered his head. Soon, he faded back into the white light and then everything began to go dark. Veronica tried to gasp for air, but found that there was none to be had. She tried to move, but her limbs wouldn't budge. Confusing, alien memories plagued her exhausted body and tore through her fragile psyche until she couldn't even feel her limbs any longer. In one last, desperate act, she threw her head back and began to scream, wanting nothing else but to drown her existence and forget everything.

Her hopeless, terrified cries were replaced with a distant voice, and then gunshots. However, even as the pain that seized her entire arm began to recede ever so slightly and her adversary fell to his knees before her, she remained separated from reality. From her lips came the word, "Billy," but no one heard her speak.

The name of the self-proclaimed god lingered in the air for all of a moment before he shattered it by yelling, "She's mine! UNDERSTAND?"

"Ronnie!" Veronica's attention immediately shot in Kyle's direction, spotting him standing underneath one of the streetlights a few yards away just before her dagger, sheath and all, came skidding along the ground to her feet. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything. You wanted that back, right?" Even though she couldn't clearly see his face, she knew that he was smiling.

For all of the time it took Veronica to crouch down and reclaim her weapon, never once taking her eyes off Kyle, she forgot about the pain in her arm and how little she could will herself to move it. All of her blood loss, the liquid fire drizzling down her face and the insane lunatic not five feet at her side became all of a distant memory. For a brief time, she only saw Kyle. The demon inside her crawled back underneath its rock, taking with it every repressed, fragmented memory that had resurfaced.

She actually began to smile, but she should have known better. A gunshot exploded from her immediate left and before she could so much as tear her attention away from Kyle to remind herself that the man he had shot had not keeled over and died, she watched as Kyle stumbled backwards and fell to ground. His short-lived cry of agony dug its nails into the recesses of Veronica's mind, forcing her to watch his writhing body lie on the ground. Every new, frantic breath she took felt as if she were inhaling napalm and without even thinking, she began to run to him, screaming his name.

"Running again, Prospero?" Billy's blade cut off Veronica's path, drawing her attention to him. She could only manage to stare with absent, broken eyes into his cold, grinning face. Fresh blood soaked the entire right side of his chest from where Kyle had shot him. "We're not finished here and I can't let you run any longer."

"You!" Veronica shot back, her grip tightening on her dagger. "YOU! I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" At every available pause, she found herself gritting her teeth. Long after she finished speaking, her words continued to linger within the air, as if only to attempt to remind her of her raging insanity. Rationality no longer acted on Veronica's behalf, thrown to the wayside for her desire to kill. She didn't even crave this man's blood. Unlike every other instance that she had slipped into the abysmal world of savage insanity, she knew that he needed to die, no longer caring about right or wrong. It was no longer about her or her humanity. He had shot Kyle, the one person who had done more for her than any other person in her entire life and for that, and that alone, he would die.

Wasting no time, not so much as sparing a single moment for the maniac to respond with some twisted, poetic verse, Veronica reached out with her injured arm, not caring for the intense, throbbing pain that ruled nearly every nerve on the upper left side of her body. Her hand wrapped around her opponent's blade in an attempt to disarm him before lashing at his throat with her blood-tainted, emerald knife. The dark expression on Billy's face never so much as changed as he seized Veronica's wrist mid-strike and tore his blade free from her grasp, gashing her hand open in the process. She probably would have screamed if it hadn't been for the blood that filled her mouth from biting down into her tongue.

"We're not so different," he began to say as he prepared to take his advantage and strike Veronica down. "His blood is on your hands just as much as mine! You wanted to kill him too, don't lie!"

Veronica opened her mouth and screamed, blood flowing over her lip and down her chin as she tackled Billy to the ground. Resting on top of him, holding his arms in place, she looked down into his dark, dead eyes and shook her head. "I'm not as sick as you are. I'm NOT as sick as you are!"

"Keep running, Prospero. The Red Death already has you."

She removed her grasp of his right arm, the wounds in her left arm having completely numbed the limb. Still, she forced herself to close her hand into a fist and bury her wrist blade into his shoulder. No matter how much pressure she applied, no matter how much she twisted the sharp piece of metal inside his flesh, Billy never so much as winced. Instead, he began to laugh, causing Veronica to call out, "Stop! STOP LAUGHING! JUST DIE!"

His laughter faded to a chuckle and he began to shake his head. "He was already dead anyways, Lenore. But here I am. Here I've waited so long to be this close to you, to be reunited with my Lenore! We could live as gods!"

"If this is godhood," Veronica began to utter, loosening her grip on his other arm, "then I want nothing of it." In one swift motion, she pulled her hand away and gashed his throat with her dagger.

For a couple of seconds, Billy attempted to laugh, which soon turned into weak coughing fits. "The bells… The bells!" He gagged, lying near motionless beneath Veronica.

She watched him as he began to reach for air, but instead found only blood. "Death is too sweet for you," she said to him before driving her blade into his chest, leaving it there for the last few moments of his life.

"The Raven!" he cried, trying to reach up for the sky. "Nevermore!"

As Billy's body fell limp, Veronica took her knife from his chest, watching his blood drip off the tip onto his warm, blood soaked clothing. For the next passing minutes, she found herself plunging the knife repeatedly into his body, ending only when his upper torso resemble more of a shredded mess of gore than anything that had ever had any semblance to a human. She began to cry as she delivered the last few wounds to his corpse, eventually falling to the ground at his side with only the unending night sky as her comfort.

" Kyle," she uttered between sobs, the pain that slowly began to return to her senses starting to drive her mad. "Kyle! Kyle!" With whatever strength she had left, Veronica forced herself to begin to crawl towards him. "Please, Kyle! Please! I need you! Say something! Kyle!"

Her crawl turned into a weak, drunken-like walk and finally a mess of a run until, finally, Veronica tripped and fell over him. Burying her face into his chest, feeling the embrace of chilled blood against her cheek, she continued to cry out his name, wanting only to hear him say something, anything. As light-headedness began to reign over her senses and her eyes burned from flooded tears, she could have sworn that she heard him say, "I promised that I would never leave you again, didn't I?"

Pulling her head away from his chest to look at his face, Veronica found only pale, silent flesh staring up at the sky. She shut her eyes and began to yell with all the remaining strength her swollen, sore throat could handle. "You promised! You fucking promised!"

Hours probably passed. In reality, time had ceased meaning countless unforgettable days prior. All that remained was a corpse, and with that corpse a terrible emptiness, the likes of which no human should ever have been forced to embrace. The emerald blade rested on top of Kyle's chest while Veronica knelt at his side, her head bowed in silent remorse. At least, she thought she felt remorse, knew that she should have felt remorse, but all that truly remained was a void. Try as she might, she couldn't even feel her heart beating behind her chest.

"I'm sorry," Mark said after what had probably been an eternity of silence.

Veronica fell forward slightly, slowly shaking her head. She went to speak, but found that language had been lost to her. Instead, she stood up and ran her uninjured arm across her eyes only to find that all of those tears she had shed had already dried. As she began to walk away, picking up Billy's sword as she passed his slowly rotting corpse, Mark followed, no longer concerned about what she had done in the past. In fact, even Veronica herself no longer cared for what she had done, for the blood she had spilled. It no longer mattered.

Time passed, she knew that well enough. Eventually, Mark began to feel ill. Not long thereafter, he collapsed. For reasons beyond her comprehension, Veronica sat at his side as he attempted to rest, only to watch as life slipped away from his body, replaced with the wretched mindless hunger that consumed so many other human-shells left to dwell within the city. She ended the miserable creature's existence. The funny thing stood in the fact that she never noticed how Mark's body didn't bleed when she cut it, or how it never fell to the ground when it finally stopped moving.

By the time Veronica reached the highway, she became reunited with the familiar broken emptiness of the streets of Raccoon City. Corpses and cars littered the paved roadway like breadcrumbs left to mark a trail to Hell. However, bright lights shone off in the distance. Mindlessly following the highway brought her to a quarantine road block, Umbrella mercenaries stationed around various military-grade vehicles in order to prevent anyone from entering, and leaving, Raccoon City.

Despite how nearly all of the mercenaries aimed their guns at her, she continued to walk through their encampment, absently following the highway in order to reach Marcy's Diner. She had no real idea why she continued to walk, but she did. From her right, she heard a man call out, "Right, we found her. It was just like Billy said."

Shortly thereafter, several men blocked her path, pointing assault rifles at her in order to cease her movements. For a moment, she thought about tearing through their fragile bodies and paving the highway with their unworthy blood.

"Miss, I'm afraid we're going to need you to come with us."

She threw a glance to her right, then her left, finding mercenary after mercenary surrounding her. Lowered her head, she began to laugh, letting Billy's sword fall from her grasp. "If you want me, come and take me."

The last thing she saw from the back of one of the mercenary's vehicles as it drove off was a mushroom cloud engulfing Raccoon City so many countless miles away. Then, she found nothing more than all too familiar white light and bells.

Those wretched bells.


End file.
